A Past Forever Present
by hibouperche
Summary: Johnny finds himself in a predicament... Will he be able to get out of it alive?
1. Chapter 1

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER ONE

Johnny was lying on the hard-packed ground in a cold cell. His clothes had been reduced to shreds and he was shivering, not only because of the cold seeping through his bones but because a fever was starting to invade his abused body.

Not for the first time since his confinement, he wondered why they were doing this to him. He desperately wanted to talk to them, to tell them he was sorry for what had happened so many years ago. He wanted to tell them it was okay for them to kill him but not to torture him like they had.

He moved slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but to no avail. All his body was hurting and, furthermore, his soul was hurting as well. Was this what it was like being in Hell on earth? Was his suffering meant to be? Was the Devil finally taking his due? He didn't know. He was lost in a world of hurt, a world he was used to, a world of his choosing or so he had always thought.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. He knew, deep down, that this time, nobody would come to his rescue. Nobody knew where he was, and it was his fault. He had made sure no one would know. He had left the ranch in a hurry after receiving a strange letter from an old friend.

Three weeks before…

The day was beautiful, with lots of sunshine and not even one cloud darkening the blue sky. Johnny was riding Barranca at a leisurely pace. He wasn't in a hurry, as Murdoch only expected him back before noon the next day. So he took his time and rode slowly, enjoying the scenery around him.

He wanted to stop in Green River and spend a few hours with his friend, Val Crawford – the sheriff. The people in town thought it strange that he, an ex-gunfighter, could be friends with a lawman. What most didn't know was that he and Val had known each other for a few years before Johnny came back to Lancer. They had, in fact, worked together a few times, back when Val wasn't a sheriff but just another gunfighter, like Johnny, albeit without the big reputation.

The young man only had a few friends he could trust implicitly and Val was one of them. Boy, was he surprised to come face to face with him, in Green River! That had been two months after his arrival at his father's ranch, and following the events with Day Pardee, who had also been a friend, well sort of. Pardee had been a gunfighter, a very good one, too… and a dangerous man to cross – one who wasn't above back-shooting his enemies or former friends, as Johnny himself had experienced.

He remembered that day very clearly. Murdoch had taken both Scott and him to the small town. His intention was to introduce them to a few people he was often dealing with. Then, after lunch, they had followed him to the sheriff's office. All the while, Murdoch was telling them the man was new to the area, having taken the job just a few days after they came back home.

Murdoch had opened the door of the office and entered, followed closely by his two sons. Val was sitting at his desk, apparently resting, his hat covering his eyes, the chair he was sitting on precariously standing on its two rear legs. Murdoch had coughed, to make his presence known and Val had jumped off his chair, sending it spiralling down as he did so. He stood right in front of Murdoch and his two sons, a look of utter disbelief crossing his features when he found himself looking directly into the eyes of…

"Madrid?"

"Yep. Got something to say against me being here in your town, Lawman?"

"Johnny!" Murdoch exclaimed, shocked by the effrontery he could sense in his son's tone and then even more shocked by what happened next.

Val pushed Murdoch aside, grabbed Johnny and pulled him into his arms, hugging him tight, laughing all the while.

"Boy, am I glad to see you alive and kicking."

"Not more than me, Amigo," answered the younger man, laughing too, pushing himself off the sheriff and looking at him from head to toe and back.

"You haven't changed much, Val. Still don't know how to dress yourself," he continued, insolence dripping from his lips as he took in the dishevelled appearance of his friend.

"And you, still dressing flashy, as I can I see," answered back Val, in much the same tone, as he noticed the younger man's salmon embroidered shirt and black Mexican-style pants with silver conchos on each side.

Murdoch and Scott looked at them both, trying to understand what was going on right in front of them.

Johnny, finally taking pity on them, said "Well, it's like this… he and I, we're friends."

"Friends? How can you be friends with a lawman?" said Murdoch, immediately regretting his words upon seeing the hurt on Johnny's face.

And Val, seeing his friend's discomfort, hurriedly added "We've known each other for quite a few years, Mr. Lancer. You see, to make a long story short, before I was a lawman, I was selling my gun, just like Johnny was. We met, we got along well and we became friends. End of the story."

The tall rancher had looked astonished – their new sheriff had once been a gunfighter? That was news to him. As for Scott, he was simply too new to all that "West" thing to really react in one way or another.

Both Johnny and Val had reassured them, saying it was common practice for a gunfighter to turn lawman. Val even told Murdoch he had tried to get a young Johnny to join him and become his deputy, the last time they had been together. And Johnny had laughed, telling his father he hadn't been ready to settle down at the time.

From that day on, the two men had resumed their friendship. And now, Johnny was riding into Green River, planning to spend some quality time with his old friend. He was glad he had a few hours ahead of him, before he had to return home. Home, how strange it still was for him, even after two years, to think about the ranch as home, HIS home.

His life had definitely been turned upside down when he accepted his father's invitation to spend one hour of his time and listen to what he had to say. At the time of his arrival, he had found out he also had a brother, an older brother. That had been a shock. When he was small, he had often wished for a brother who would look after him, stop people from bullying him. In his mind, his brother was a tall, dark-haired man with kind brown eyes, much like the eyes of his mama. He wasn't expecting a blond Eastern dandy coming straight from Boston, a place he had heard of but never went to.

Another shock had been to find out his father had not thrown him and his mama out when he was barely two years old as he had been led to believe. Two shocks in less than 24 hours; it had been more than enough to unbalance him. But now, looking back, he was glad he had decided to give it a try. After a rather rocky beginning, lots of head bumping with his old man, slowly getting to know his newly-found brother and developing a very close friendship with the man, he was finally happy and settled. Yes, he was glad to be back home – or almost – as he still wanted to spend some time with Val.

Johnny and Val had caroused late into the night, drinking tequila and whisky and talking about old times. They had started in the saloon after Val had finished his last rounds and left his office in the capable hands of his deputy, to finish at Val's place so as not to end up in jail for public disturbance. Although it would have been funny, in Johnny's opinion, to find both of them behind bars, in Val's own cell, waiting for someone to bail them out.

The next morning, they had woken up in the same bed with a bad hangover, wondering how the hell they did end up in the said bed in the first place. Val had made coffee in his usual manner, using a frying pan. After a few cups of a coffee that, for once, was strong enough, Johnny felt his head sufficiently clear for him to take his leave and return home. He still had a few hours of riding in front of him before getting to the ranch and he really wanted to be there before noon. Hell, he didn't arrive in town a day earlier to end up late at the ranch because he and Val had too much fun remembering their old times together.

Finally, Johnny arrived in view of the Lancer arch and stopped, letting the breathtaking view hit him. He smiled, leaned against Barranca's head while patting his neck and started whistling a cheerful tune. He couldn't believe how just the fact of seeing the hacienda could make him feel so happy. He spurred his mount and rushed through the gate at full speed, even though he knew that Murdoch hated him doing it. He would, of late, usually abide by his father's wishes, but this time he didn't care… He wanted to be home with his family and he wanted to be there fast.

It was a half-hour to noon when he finally reined in his horse in front of the hitching post. He barely had time to dismount before Murdoch was already coming out of the front door, a frown on his face.

"How many times have I told you not to come rushing like this, young man?"

"Too many times," answered Johnny with a full smile adorning his face. "I'm happy to be back."

"And I suppose that's a good enough reason in your view, huh?" Murdoch answered, his tone softening upon seeing the look of pure joy on his younger son's face.

"Yep."

Murdoch laughed, a deep laugh coming from his belly, and shook his head.

"Take care of your horse and get cleaned up a bit. Lunch should be ready in about half an hour."

"Is Scott back?"

"Not yet, but he should be soon," responded the older man, as he turned his back to re-enter the house, still smiling as he thought how far Johnny had come.

He was glad the boy finally felt at home, sufficiently so to admit he was happy to be back. Oh, his son still had his moments, and so did he, but they were not arguing as often as before. He had learned to trust his son's instincts and the boy had learned to respect his father's opinion. They had come a long way toward finally forming that father-son bond they both needed so badly.

And so it was that Murdoch came back inside, whistling a cheerful tune, not knowing it was the same one Johnny had been whistling earlier.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 2

Scott finally arrived almost thirty minutes after lunch was served. Johnny couldn't help flashing a mocking grin at his brother as he made his way to his customary place and heard their father clearing his throat.

"I know, I know, Murdoch. I'm late and I'm deeply sorry," Scott said, an appropriately contrite look on his face.

"How many times have you been told that lunch is at noon sharp and dinner at six, no matter what?" Johnny said, beating his father by a few seconds. "And you know, you're still young enough for OUR father to turn you over his knees and give you a spanking," he continued, managing to say so with such an innocent look that Teresa and Scott burst out laughing, thus defusing Murdoch's scowl.

"Seriously, oh brother of mine, what took you so long?" asked Johnny after regaining his composure.

"A couple of cows got tangled in barbed wire," responded the young man. "I'm still amazed at how cows can be so stupid. Can you imagine they've managed to find a tiny hole in the fence and rushed through it? I firmly believe I'll never get used to their stupidity."

Upon hearing Scott's words about a hole in the fence, Murdoch was about to speak but Johnny beat him again.

"And you, being so chivel… What's the word Teresa?"

"Chivalrous," provided the young girl, smiling at the dark-haired young man.

"Yeah, that's it, thank you… And you, being so chivalrous, felt you needed to get them sweet ladies out of their predicament."

"Sweet ladies, huh?" Scott responded, arching his eyebrows, trying to figure out where his brother was leading him.

"Yeah! And knowing you would be expected to do so, you repaired that nice tiny little hole."

"Yes, exactly."

"And all this time, you never thought about me, your poor brother who's been waiting for you at home," continued Johnny, putting just the right amount of hurt feelings in his words.

"You know what's the problem with you, brother?" answered Scott in a deceptive manner, hiding a smile.

"No what?" asked the younger Lancer, taking a mouthful of a thick roast beef sandwich, laughter still in his eyes.

"You think too much."

Murdoch, who was by then taking a sip of his drink, almost choked on it. Scott, Johnny and Teresa looked at him and just started laughing again.

"Can't a man eat in peace in here?" he asked, annoyed, as he put down his glass on the table with a thump.

"Oh, Murdoch, why don't you admit you love it when we're doing this?" said Teresa, flashing a very cheerful smile at her guardian.

"Yeah, why don't you admit it, Old Man? Afraid we'll shame you or what?"

"Johnny, you're being a tad too insolent for my taste," their father said, a little harshly.

"Oh, come on Murdoch, I'm only joking," retorted the younger man, still smiling, which surprised Scott.

Normally, his brother would have left the table, mad as a wet hen, slammed the door and rushed over to the barn, taking comfort with his horse if not simply taking off with him. This easy-going happy little brother surprised him a lot but in a good way.

He took the time to carefully examine his sibling, noting the laughing eyes, the relaxed stance and the smile – the one that fully reached his eyes and brightened any room he was in. So, he smiled, too.

"So, little brother, what's put you in such a good mood?"

"Don't know, Scott. Guess I'm just glad to be home."

"Anything special happened during your trip?" Scott wanted to know, noticing his brother had used the word 'home' twice in the course of their conversation.

"Let's move to the Great Room, I'll tell you all about it," answered the young man, getting up and leading the way.

Murdoch and Scott looked at each other, and the patriarch said something Scott thought he'd never hear. "Seems to me your brother is calling the tune. Let's go, Son."

Once again, Scott was at a loss. What had happened since Johnny's return to make their father so… soft, so understanding?

In the Great Room, Johnny was busy filling two glasses of brandy and one of tequila. He looked at his father and Teresa, and holding a bottle of sherry, silently asked permission to give her a small glass. When Murdoch nodded, he filled a glass and brought it to her. Then, he brought the drinks to his father and his brother. Finally, he grabbed his own glass, took a small sip and sat down on the couch, near his brother. He took another swallow and cleared his throat.

"Everything went well on my way to Bakersfield. I got to the Army Post one day ahead of schedule and was able to meet with Major Holmes. He was very pleased with those five horses I brought him. Said they're broken just the way he wants them for his men."

"Did he agree to pay the price we've proposed?" asked Scott.

"Yep, he did. In fact, he told me the Army is ready to pay us twenty-five dollars more per head, but on one condition."

"And what is that condition, young man?" Murdoch asked, dreading the answer.

"I'll be the one breaking all of the horses we'll sell to them."

"Really? But, that's great Johnny," said Scott.

"They want you to be the sole person working on their horses?" asked Murdoch.

"Yes. They heard about me."

"Heard about you? What do you mean?" asked his father again.

"Well, you see Johnny Madrid wasn't only a gunfighter. He was also an amansador."

"Amansador? What does it mean, Johnny?" asked Teresa.

"It means a horse breaker, Querida."

"But, that would mean…"

"Spending more time on horse breaking."

"Johnny, I've already told you, this…"

"This is a cattle ranch. We're in the cattle business, not horse business," interrupted the young man. "I know all that, Murdoch. But this is a great opportunity."

"I agree with Johnny," intervened Scott. "Besides, you know our view on diversification. I gather you were able to get this in writing, right, brother?"

"Yep."

"This horse breaking venture could be just what could save the ranch if we come across some problems with the cattle," said Scott, taking a sip of his brandy.

"And then, your brother will want to pursue with his horse breeding program as well, I suppose?"

"You're damn right I would," answered Johnny, but not in a harsh tone. "Murdoch, we know you're calling the tune, but I'm sure this would work."

"It takes time, Johnny, time we do not have."

"Time we could make, Murdoch. I'm willing to work on my horse breeding program when I'm off if you're willing to give me the chance to work on the horse breaking for the Army."

"I'll think about it. Meanwhile, it's late and you should get back to work Scott. As for you, young man, considering you just came back from a long trip, you have the remainder of the day off."

"I'm not tired, Murdoch. I'd rather go help Scott," the young man in question answered. "We've got some catching up to do."

With that said, both young men left the Great Room, grabbing their gun belts and their hats as they proceeded toward the door, fooling around as they did.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Christmas is almost here… and here's my present to you. I hope you will like it. As usual, I've tinkered with this chapter after Ros and Linda saw it. So, any mistakes are mine. I don't own Johnny and Scott, unfortunately. But I've had fun writing about them.**

**Merry Christmas to all.**

**Liette**

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 3

When the brothers left the hacienda, it was already past two o'clock. That didn't give them a lot of leeway to get some work done but, nonetheless, they headed over to the stable to get their horses saddled.

As he wanted to give Barranca some more time to rest, Johnny chose another horse he was used to working with, a beautiful little pinto that reminded him of Star, the horse he had stolen at 16, when he was trying to escape the wrath of an irate husband.

Johnny chuckled at the memory. He had been in-between two jobs and had found himself near Juárez, on the Mexican side, just across El Paso – further east from where he usually operated. Things were getting a little too hot in his "territory" and he figured he'd better move out for a little while. He hadn't really wanted to get involved too deeply with his good friend, El Capitán – at least, not yet. He wasn't quite ready to make his life as miserable as he intended to do.

So, he had moved into the region east of the Sonora Desert, toward the Chihuahua Desert – where not as many people knew about Johnny Madrid. He had decided he wouldn't try to find work as a gunfighter but rather as a horse breaker or a ranch hand. And he would use any name except Madrid as he didn't want to attract attention. It was thus that he came upon the big ranchero bordering the desert, just outside of Juárez.

He rode into the courtyard, full of confidence, and stopped in front of the hacienda. He'd never seen such a big house in his short life and it took his breath away. Right in front of him stood a beautiful two-storey white adobe mansion, so immense that he wondered how many people were living in it. He didn't have time to ponder this as he saw a tall man coming toward him.

The man, who was a good ten inches taller than him, stopped a few feet from his horse and watched him, expectantly. He looked to be in his mid-thirties with a neatly trimmed moustache. His short hair was pitch black and his eyes were an interesting shade of brown – very light, almost golden. His outfit was rather expensive looking – stylish black pants, a white shirt, embroidered with some black pattern and a black jacket stopping at the waist. He looked like one of those Spanish hidalgos he had seen when he was younger. He thought that one day, soon he hoped, he'd wear clothes just like these.

"What can I do for you, Stranger?"

"Are you Señor Morales?"

"Yes, I am."

"My name is Juan Gómez. I've just arrived in the region and I've been told you're hiring hands."

"You seem very young to be looking for work," the man told him, inviting him to dismount.

"I'm almost 19, Señor, although I admit I do look younger," he answered, offering the man a dazzling smile, lying through his teeth and perfectly aware the man in front of him knew he was lying.

"And what would such a young man as you would know about ranching?" the man said, eying his low hung gun belt with suspicion.

Johnny followed his gaze and smiled before answering.

"Oh, plenty. I can do most ranch work and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. I can also tame horses. I've seen a few herds of beautiful horses further down. Maybe you'd need help with them."

"And what about this… tool that's hanging so low on your hip?"

Johnny's smile grew even larger and he laughed.

"That, as you said, is just a tool, a practical one at times, but just a tool. I have no intention of using it in any special way while I'm here, unless I'm forced to. I'm just looking for good honest work."

"Are you sure?" asked Morales, dubiously. "I've never heard of a gunfighter named Gómez but I did hear something mentioned about a young blue-eyed gunfighter on the rise. You wouldn't be that man, would you?" the man continued, watching the eyes of this boy who he exuded so much confidence that it was unnerving.

Johnny's smile deepened and he looked the man square in the eyes.

"As I said, I'm just looking for some honest work. Now, are you interested or not?" he asked in a surprisingly soft voice.

Señor Morales carefully studied the boy. Oh, he wasn't fooled; this particular ranch hand was no more than 16 or 17, not quite totally grown-up and full of sass. He had no doubt the boy was the young half-breed gunfighter he had heard about the last time he had been in Nogales. But, he did sense the boy was serious when he claimed he was looking for honest work, not that gunfighting was illegal. He pondered the boy's request for a few minutes and made a decision.

"You're on. But, if I hear you're using your "tool", you're out of a job. I don't want any troubles."

"There won't be any, Señor," Johnny answered truthfully. He really did intend to keep a low profile, stay out of trouble for a while.

The patrón showed him where the bunkhouse was and introduced him to his Segundo; a man named Fernando, and left him in his hands.

The first few days went well. Johnny was shown around the place and put to work with a fencing crew. Oh how he hated fencing, really did. The only good thing it did for him, in his opinion, was developing his upper arm muscles… and his patience.

He did his fair share of the work and, surprisingly, after three days, Señor Morales had come to see him, full of praise for the way he did whatever task was thrown at him. The patrón had told him that if he was still interested, he could start working with some wild horses that had been captured not long ago – those same ones he had seen on his way to the hacienda. Johnny was thrilled. That's what he liked doing on a ranch – taming and training horses. But, unfortunately, that was also when trouble started for him.

The next day, as he was coming out of the bunkhouse, he saw a beautiful young girl struggling to carry a basket that looked way too big and heavy for her. He rushed to her side, took the basket off her hands and looked at her.

"Where to?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips and his eyes sparkling, while he looked at her from head to toe as if he was evaluating her potential. She had the most exquisite mischievous green eyes and her long dark brown braids hung down her back and to her waist. Boy, he thought, she must be able to sit on her hair when they're loose. He'd love to see that. Actually, he'd love to see what she was hiding under her clothes.

"There, by the bench," she answered, blushing slightly, showing him a place at the side of the house. She looked at the young man attentively. She had never seen him but knew a couple of new ranch hands had been hired in the last few days. She thought he was the most beautiful thing she had seen in pants lately and that aroused her interest. But, she would have to play it carefully.

"You're working here?" she heard him ask, unknowingly giving her the answer to how she could have her way with him.

"Yes, I am," she responded, flashing him a very bright smile.

"My name is Juanito," he said. "I'm new here."

"I figured. My name is Consuelo."

"I'd… I'd like to see you later on. You think it would be possible?"

"I don't know if it would be right," she answered, playing the shy girl when all she wanted to do was spend some time with him… in a place where they would be alone and could do whatever they felt like doing. He was young, very young, and she felt it would be fun to play with him.

Thus, they had started to see each other whenever they could, discreetly, or so they believed. They'd meet in the hayloft, hidden someplace in the barn, or they would go to a secluded cave she had shown him, near a stream that stretched lazily a few miles away from the hacienda.

Johnny had felt elated. She was everything he was looking for in a woman, or so he thought. He was still young enough to be innocent in the ways of women. And even though he had made love to women before, it was all quite new to him. Just a few months before his arrival at the ranchero, he had been taught a few things by some "ladies" of his acquaintance, ladies he had helped in getting rid of their pander, who they felt wasn't treating them right. They had taught him the art of pleasing a woman and, with Consuelo he could do just that, as she was as eager as he was.

Their relationship had gone on without impediment for a couple of weeks. And all this time, Johnny had never suspected that Consuelo was anything other than what she had told him – a house servant. Boy, had he been naïve. How the hell was he to know that this beautiful girl, who had ensnared him so effectively, was his employer's wife? And, that she was 5 years his senior at that?

When Señor Morales had found out through the indiscretion of the cook, who had noticed the two young people hanging around each other one time too many, Johnny had been lucky to escape with his life. The irate husband had caught them in the act, coming upon them as they were taking their pleasure in an abandoned farm bordering his lands. The young pistolero had barely had time to grab his clothes and his gun belt. He had rushed to put on his pants, stumbling as he did and had hurled himself through the open window, landing on the remnants of some rose bushes.

By then, Señor Morales had recovered from his surprise and was taking shots at him. Looking frantically around him, Johnny had swiftly leaped onto the first horse he had seen – the small pinto that Consuelo had ridden to the farm and that was grazing nearby. He had fled the place, not claiming his wages, galloping bareback straight into the Chihuahua Desert. He had spared a thought for the girl, briefly wondering what would happen to her and hoped her punishment wouldn't be too harsh, knowing full well, though, that her husband might well repudiate her. Well, he had learned a lesson that day – don't mess around with the boss's wife… or daughter for that matter, as he figured the end result would be the same.

Unfortunately for him, two bullets had found their mark. One had hit him high in the left thigh and the other one had grazed his upper left arm. He'd been lucky Morales wasn't such a good shot, otherwise he might have ended up dead. And that was something that wasn't exactly part of his immediate plans.

He had ridden into the Chihuahua Desert, a place that was totally different from the Sonora Desert he was used to. He had let the pinto gallop until it could do no more and had eventually fallen off his over-tired horse. He remembered he had tried to scramble his way back to the horse but had finally let the darkness claim him, unable to resist anymore.

He had woken up on the other side of the border, among a tribe of Indians. They had told him they were the Tigua and had taken him near El Paso, to a settlement called Hueco Tanks – mainly a rocky outcropping located right in the desert – a place that was sacred to them.

The Indians had nursed him back to health and their chief, the Cacique, had adopted him, and made him swear he would never reveal their settlement's location to anybody. He had explained to him that only a few of them remained and they did not want too many people to know where they were, especially not the White men. Johnny had given his word and, to this day, had never disclosed the location of the place where he had been brought back to life – that beautiful place with lakes and springs, hidden right in the desert.

Johnny shook his head, shoving the memory to the back of his mind, and finished saddling his horse. Once he was done, he looked at his brother who was already mounted, waiting for him, and smiled. Without saying a word, they both headed out in the general direction of the bridge.

On their way to the stable, Scott had told Johnny about the storm that had hit the valley a couple of days before he came back from Bakersfield. Those few hours they had ahead of them would be just enough to assess if it had caused any damage to the bridge and the stream running below it. It should have been done earlier but, with Johnny away, Scott had had to take care of other, more pressing, business. Johnny's return and willingness to accompany him was perfect for this.

When they came back to the ranch, it was almost time for dinner. It had taken them a little longer than they had expected to check the bridge. They were glad they had gone there, as indeed, the storm had caused some damage that would need to be repaired without delay. They intended to talk to their father about it, after dinner, when they would plan work for the next few days.

The more his relationship with his father improved, the more Johnny had found he was rather enjoying the moments spent planning with him and his brother. He was really starting to see how much time and effort it had taken Murdoch to build his empire. As Johnny Madrid, he was used to making plans. But, his had been a different kind of planning, as his plans were not designed for the long-term. More likely, they were geared toward some very short-term endeavour. Once his job was done, whether it was fighting in a range war, a bodyguard type of job or the plain "removal" of someone, he would up and leave and go wherever he'd be needed next. Nobody had shown any interest in having his kind stay around after a job was done – a resident gunfighter was way too dangerous, especially one with his reputation.

Sometimes, after a job was finished, he would drift for a few weeks, finding what he called "normal work" anywhere. He'd take any type of job, just to get by. That's how he had ended up working at various ranches for a little while, sometimes weeks or a couple of months at a time – in-between two contracts. Since he had always been a quick learner, he'd picked up ranching rapidly. He'd take ranch work on both sides of the border and whenever he worked on the American side, he would use the occasion to improve his accent. He had realized, early on, that if he could speak English without his Mexican accent, it would be much better. And if he could manage to look older, or to pretend with assurance that he was older, people would also take him more seriously. Thus, he had taken the habit of lying about his age, adding about three years to what he thought his age was. He'd never know for sure how old he really was, except that his birthday was close to Christmas. In fact, it wasn't until he arrived at Lancer that he was made aware of both the date and year of his birth.

He jolted back to reality as an insistent voice was trying to worm its way into his head, taking him brusquely out of his reverie.

"Hey, where are you, brother?"

"Huh?"

"You looked like you were miles away. Something wrong?"

"No… nothing wrong, Boston. I was just thinking about a few things."

"Care to share?"

Johnny just smiled and shook his head. Scott knew better than to insist – he would eventually get it out of his feisty little brother. So, he simply dismounted in front of the stable and took his horse inside, followed immediately by his brother. They unsaddled their respective horses and started to brush them. Scott noticed that Johnny still had that faraway look in his eyes.

"You're sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"W… what? I'm sorry, Scott, I guess I still was miles away, as you said," answered the young man, sheepishly.

"Well, I hope that whatever it is you were thinking about was worth it."

Johnny's smile widened and he started to laugh.

"Oh, Boston! If only you knew," he answered, remembering his encounter with Consuelo. Hell, he didn't even know if it was her real name. It probably wasn't. "One day I'll tell you, but not now. Murdoch will have our heads on a platter if we're late for dinner."

"Yes, I know. But, you promise me, huh?"

"Yes, yes, I promise. Happy now?"

Scott smiled, grabbed his younger brother by the shoulders and shoved him toward the hacienda.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 4

Scott and Johnny burst into the Great Room, still arm in arm and talking animatedly.

Murdoch, who sat at his desk, was busy shuffling through papers that had accumulated over the last couple of days. He grabbed a letter, read the name written on it and kept turning it over and over in his hands. So deep was he in his thoughts that he had not noticed the boys' arrival and jumped when he heard their excited voices. Upon seeing them, he hurriedly put the letter down on the desk and got up.

"Boys," he said. "Can't you be a little more quiet? I'm trying to work."

Johnny disengaged himself from his brother and, sauntering toward his father, stopped right in front of the tall man. He raised his head to look him straight in the eyes.

"Are we being too rambunctious for your taste, Old Man?" he asked, teasingly. "We can leave, if you prefer."

"Yes," added Scott jumping at the golden occasion. "We can go to… Green River maybe and have some fun over there. I seem to remember there are a couple of ladies who told me they'd like to see both of us."

His older son bore a very serious expression while Johnny's eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"Yep, good idea, oh brother of mine. Let's go," Johnny continued, turning on his heels, grasping his brother's arm on the way back and heading toward the door. "You mean the twins, Rosalita and Rosalinda, don't you?"

"STOP," Murdoch bellowed. "There's no way you two are going into town in the middle of the week."

"Why not?" asked Johnny, turning to face his father, an innocent look in his deep blue eyes.

"Because… Because…"

"Dinner is ready," announced Teresa, emerging from the kitchen. She had heard the last of their conversation and was desperately trying to keep a straight face. She knew her brothers were pulling their father's leg and that they would never just leave like that. Not when they were aware she and Maria had been preparing a special meal to celebrate Johnny's return.

"Oh well, if dinner is ready, I guess we should make an effort and stay. What do you think Boston?"

"I suppose we could."

"Shall we go, then?"

"Sure, you go first. I'll hold the door open for our poor old father who has been working so hard all afternoon."

The three young people started giggling when they heard Murdoch's loud sigh and they hurried into the dining room, pretending to fight for the seat nearer to the man who was calling the tune.

Dinner that night was very enjoyable. Johnny, Scott and Teresa hadn't stopped fooling around with one another. Upon realizing nothing he would say would make any difference, Murdoch wisely decided to remain quiet. Inwardly, he was glad the three young people got along so well and that things were getting a lot better between himself and his younger son. Well enough, in fact, for the boy to pester him unmercifully, which gave him an insight of just how it could have been, had the boy been brought up on the ranch.

A short while ago, Johnny had finally realized he was at peace. And that feeling had left him with a profound sense of contentment over the way his life was going. He wasn't as skittish as he had been when he arrived at the ranch, close to two years ago. In fact, it hadn't taken very long for him to let Scott crawl under his skin. And to tell the truth, the same could apply to his father, although he had refused to let himself be suckered in too quickly. He had been so afraid all this would be taken away from him, like everything else had been in his short life. But now, he was really happy. He sighed contentedly and looked at the people surrounding him – HIS family.

"Murdoch, have you thought about what we talked over at lunch?" he asked, unable to hide his expectations.

"I have."

"And?"

"We'll try it your way but," he said, while he raised one finger to contain the excitement he felt was coming over his younger son, "I want you to realize all the implications this project has."

"Scott and I already have. He will help me out whenever he can and we'll also get Cipriano's nephew in. He's good with horses – might even have the gift. And Jelly can give me a hand, too. You know he's got a way with them as well."

"When can we start, Sir?" asked Scott, unconsciously reverting to the way he used to address his father when he first came home.

Murdoch smiled when he heard the term. It used to rile him, maybe not as much as Johnny's Old Man did, but it did. "How about in a couple of weeks? We need time to round up some of the wild horses that are running free on Lancer and we also have a few things to get done before we think about starting that little business."

"Ah, yes, speaking of things to do, Murdoch… We took a look at the bridge this afternoon," Scott continued.

"And?"

"Well, there's some damage and Johnny and I thought about heading over there with a few men tomorrow morning."

"Yep. We figured three men will be enough, at least to start with," said Johnny.

"You got someone in mind?"

"Yes, we do. But, how about continuing our talk in the Great Room?" suggested Scott. "I could use a drink."

"Me too," added Johnny, as he grabbed the last piece of pie on the table, put it on his plate, got up and started to walk over to the other room.

"I'm of a mind to let you only drink milk, young man. You seem to be excited enough as it is," Murdoch told him, trying to remain impassive at the boy's antics. He couldn't help but wonder where all the food he had eaten went and how he could still be hungry – but deep down he knew… he knew that all of this was the direct result of the hard life his son had led before finally coming home. A life of starvation and hardships in the dirty streets of the border towns he grew up in. A life that had not been meant to be but that had been, nonetheless.

Johnny stopped in his tracks and turned to face his father. "I'll be good, Murdoch. I promise. Please, let me have a large glass of tequila, please, pretty please?" the younger man said, laughing.

Scott and Teresa raised their eyes to the ceiling, both thinking their brother had gone crazy but enjoying the bantering between him and their father all the same – such a nice change from their usual arguing sessions, although those happened less and less lately.

Typically, Murdoch went to sit at his desk while Teresa took her customary place, by the fireplace, a glass of cold lemonade in her right hand, which she deposited on the small coffee table beside her chair. She took her sewing basket from under the chair and got one of Johnny's shirts out of it, showing it to the boy with a disapproving look in her eyes. Johnny just shrugged and gave her a shy smile – once again, she was about to mend his favorite salmon-coloured shirt. Then, he looked at Scott and made a motion toward the liquor cabinet with his head while he took his place on one of the chairs facing their father's desk.

Scott raised his eyebrows but went nonetheless and prepared their drinks. He took one glass to Murdoch and gave it to him. Then, he turned his back and hurriedly went into the kitchen. Johnny looked at him curiously and, as he was about to get up and get his glass, Scott returned, so he sat down again. His brother was holding a serving tray in his right hand and a white towel draped over his left arm. On the tray was a lone glass of…

"Milk!" Johnny uttered when Scott brought the tray over to him and ceremoniously offered him the glass.

"Well, Murdoch said you were too excited to drink alcohol. So, milk you'll have," his brother told him, his face showing absolutely no expression at all.

Teresa started to giggle, soon followed by Murdoch. Johnny looked at each of them in turn and gracefully accepted the glass of milk, which he drained quickly and gratefully – he had to admit a piece of pie was better with a good glass of milk.

Handing the empty glass back to his brother, he said, "Well, waiter, how about a glass of tequila now, if you please?"

"At your service, Sir." And up the said brother went to the liquor cabinet to fetch both their glasses. He returned to the younger man's side, gave him his drink and went to sit on the other chair.

"You might want to think about this, Brother," he added, absently swirling the brandy in his own glass.

"Why?"

"I'm not sure mixing milk and tequila is such a good idea."

"Oh that? Don't worry, I've had worst," the dark-haired young man said, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a swig.

Scott smiled knowingly, taking a sip of his drink. He was sure his brother would regret it later on.

"If you two are done, maybe we can get to serious business," said Murdoch, trying to keep a straight face.

The two boys looked at each other and started giggling.

"Sorry, Murdoch, didn't mean to mess up your evening…" started Scott.

"It can't be helped!" continued Johnny.

This got the brothers laughing even harder, as they remembered their first encounter. Their laughter finally subsided and they sat quietly in front of their father, sipping their drinks and planning the next couple of days.

Then, they moved over to the couch. Johnny slumped down in one corner while Scott walked over to the bookcase and chose one book for himself and another one for his brother. He smiled as he looked at the book he had taken for Johnny – one about horses. He knew the young horse breaker would appreciate that particular book full of very detailed drawings. He was thrilled to see how much his brother was now enjoying his new life. Those first few months sure had been a challenge for all of them but, in the end, Scott had won his own bet. He had started to build a strong relationship with this not so tough young man who happened to be his sibling. A man he was proud to call 'his friend, his brother, his best pal'.

He sat down next to Johnny and put the book on his lap. He was rewarded with a bright smile as the young man who, at that moment, did look very young started to shuffle through the pages. He stopped at one page in particular, his fingers tracing the outline of the horse that was depicted on the page.

Murdoch looked at his three children and smiled fondly as he realized they now were a real happy family. They had beaten the odds and the more time went by, the more he was glad they had come home and agreed to stay with him.

After a little while, Murdoch remembered the letter he had been pondering about earlier, when his sons returned from their afternoon work. He got up from his comfortable chair, the one closer to the fireplace, and moved to his desk. He retrieved the letter and went back to his place, turning it over and over once more in his hands.

"Johnny,"

"Yep, what is it?" the young man said, raising his eyes from his book to look at his father.

"We received this letter a couple of days ago. It's addressed to you and I had forgotten about it," his father said as he extended his hand to pass the letter to his son.

Johnny took it and looked at it. There was no return address on it and it was simply addressed to 'Juanito – Lancer Ranch – Morro Coyo'. He started turning it over and over in his hands, unconsciously imitating his father's earlier action.

"Aren't you going to open it?" asked Teresa, who was still mending some clothes.

"Nah," he finally said, putting it beside Murdoch's model ship on the long table behind the couch. "I'll read it later on. Right now, all I want is to enjoy a peaceful evening with you all."

"And what is your idea of a peaceful evening, Little Brother?"

"Oh, how about a game of chess. Murdoch, are you ready to lose to me?"

Murdoch laughed. "No, thank you, Son. I think I just might retire now. It's been a long day and I'm rather tired. Ask your brother."

"Scott?"

"Sure, I'll play with you but you're the one who had better get ready to lose. I'm of a mind to beat you tonight."

Johnny jumped from his corner of the couch and ambled over to the small table they used when they were playing chess or checkers. He retrieved the chess box and started putting everything in place while his brother went to the liquor cabinet to prepare yet another drink for them.

In the end, Scott did beat his brother but the game had been very tough – both brothers going at it and trying every move they could think of to win. Johnny wanted to get his revenge right away and Scott had a hard time convincing him to wait until the next evening.

If truth be told, Johnny was glad his brother talked him out of playing again as his recent trip, and the drinking venture he had had with Val the night before, had worn him out. He wasn't going to admit it though.

Since Teresa had turned in shortly after Murdoch had, that left the two young men to extinguish all the lamps down in the Great Room. Once this was done, they climbed the stairs and went to their respective rooms after saying their goodnights.

Johnny stifled a yawn as he started to undress – boy, was he tired. Suddenly, he remembered the letter. Taking one of the smaller lamps on his night table, he went back downstairs to get it. Once back in his room, he sat on his bed and looked at the envelope, turning it this way and that way. He had a strange feeling of unease about it. He took a deep breath and ripped it open. Inside, there was a small piece of paper neatly folded in two. He unfolded it and read it. It contained only a few words, but those words had him jump from his bed.

Hurriedly, he finished undressing and put on a clean pair of pants and shirt, leaving his dirty clothes in a heap on the floor. Retrieving his saddlebags, he emptied them on the bed and shuffled through their contents. He put back a couple of small boxes of ammunitions along with a knife and some matches he kept in a small pouch in one bag. Then he grabbed a spare shirt, folded it and stuffed it in the other bag.

He took his boots and his spurs and eased out of his room, careful not to make any noise. He couldn't possibly tell his family where he was going. He hated it but they would undoubtedly try to stop him and this was out of the question.

He left like a thief in the night!

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 5

The next morning, Scott made his way downstairs and entered the kitchen, a little pale and massaging his temples with his hands. Murdoch was already sitting at the table, drinking his first cup of coffee. Teresa and Maria were busy preparing their breakfast. There was no sign of Johnny but, considering it was still very early, nobody really bothered about his absence.

However, it changed once breakfast was on the table and everyone was sitting around. Everyone except Johnny, that is. Murdoch frowned.

"Where is that boy?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Shall I fetch him?" Scott replied as he put his cup of coffee down on the table. "Maybe he just overslept. He was quite tired yesterday when we retired and we did drink a bit more after you left."

"Scott, stop finding excuses for him, will you? And yes, go see what's keeping him upstairs," answered Murdoch, trying to sound grumpy but failing miserably as a grin appeared on his lips.

Teresa and Scott looked at him, still surprised at all the efforts he was making so as not to be cross with his younger son anymore than absolutely necessary. Even Maria had noted that both were really trying to be more understanding of one another. And everybody was thankful as it resulted in less stressful moments for all of them.

Murdoch watched Scott's disappearing back and returned to his coffee, which was now cold. Maria noticed his wry face and brought the coffee pot to refill his cup.

"Thank you, Maria."

"Don't worry, patrón, the niño, he will come down soon."

Murdoch smiled. Maria was totally besotted with his younger son. She had been there when he was born. And when his mother had taken him away, Maria had been inconsolable. Now that the boy was back, she was treating him like her own son. Johnny knew how much she loved him and the rascal was taking full advantage of it. He had her wrapped around his little finger and could get away with almost anything with her. The same applied to Scott as the Mexican cook spoilt both young men rotten. They were not complaining, far from it. Actually, they loved the attention.

Teresa and Murdoch looked at each other and smiled. They started digging into their respective plates, while waiting for Scott to drag his younger brother into the kitchen.

Scott came back, faster then they'd thought he would. One look at him and they knew something was wrong. His face was ashen and, this time, not because he had been drinking the night before. He slumped down heavily on his chair.

"What is it, Son?"

"He's not in his room."

"Maybe he woke up earlier and left for the bridge to get a head start," Teresa began to say.

"I doubt it," answered Scott, dejectedly.

"What makes you say that?" his father asked.

"Apparently, he hasn't slept in his bed. His room is a mess. There's stuff that he's obviously taken from his saddlebags spread all over his bed. His dirty clothes are lying in a heap on the floor."

"That's not unusual," Teresa said, giggling.

Scott looked at her and she sensed he was being very serious about Johnny not having slept in his room. She dropped her eyes to her plate and pushed her food around, her appetite lost.

"What are you not telling us, Scott?"

"Sir, I also found this on the floor," Scott answered, handing him a crumpled piece of paper.

Murdoch took it and carefully flattened it out. Then, he read the contents aloud; translating it as he did as it was in Spanish.

"We need you. Come. F. Castillo."

"Sir, it's rather cryptic."

"It is. But it seems to have been enough to get your brother going. How long ago do you think he left?"

"Well," Scott started, "the way I see it, he must have gone back downstairs to pick up the envelope soon after we came up and left not long after. So, I'd say he is a good five hours ahead of us."

"Where to? Do you think he went to Mexico?"

"It's possible, Murdoch. That note is in Spanish after all… I've never heard him mentioning a man by the name of Castillo, though. Have you?"

"No, never," Murdoch answered, a great feeling of unease falling on him.

"Scott, this note was written by a woman, not a man," added Murdoch thoughtfully, turning the piece of paper in his big hands. "See, look at the way the letters are formed. The writing is small and very neat," he said showing Scott the letter. "I'm sure a woman has written that note."

"Maybe this was written on behalf of someone else," suggested Teresa, pouring yet two other cups of coffee for Scott and Murdoch.

Both took their cup and gulped a small sip of the scalding liquid, without seemingly noticing how hot it was.

"Murdoch, do you seriously think Johnny would leave like this without telling us if it was to meet with a woman?"

Murdoch took his time before he answered. He swallowed another mouthful of coffee and put his cup on the table.

"With your brother, everything is possible. What worries me is this 'We need you'."

"Someone from his past?" said Teresa, suddenly nervous.

"Yes, that's what I think. We know now it's not everybody from his past who means trouble for Johnny. But still, this note is not very explicit and that doesn't sit well with me," Murdoch continued.

"What are we waiting for, Sir!" Scott said, pushing his chair away from the table.

"Give me a few minutes. Would you mind saddling the horses?"

Scott nodded and hurried out of the house. Maria looked at Teresa and, without saying a word, the two women set about preparing food for the two men to take on the trail. They worked fast, efficiently, and within a few minutes, they had some sandwiches ready. They packed everything and put it in one saddlebag, which they handed to Murdoch once he came back downstairs.

"Bring back the niño," Maria told him as she took one of his hands in hers. She had tears in her eyes that were threatening to fall down her cheeks.

Murdoch found himself unable to utter a word so he nodded and rushed outside. Cipriano met him on the porch, awaiting his instructions as to the running of the ranch while they would be gone. Once it was done, the older man then mounted his horse and followed Scott's lead.

They didn't say much on their way out of Lancer. Both were preoccupied by Johnny's disappearance and his apparent lack of confidence in them. It's only once they reached the boundary of their land that they did stop to look around them. For once, none of them took heed of the beauty of the place. All they had on their minds was Johnny.

"Scott, we don't even know in which direction he went."

"I know. I think we should head over to Green River and speak to Val."

"Val? Why?"

"Simple, Sir. Val rode with Johnny in the past and from what they told me, they're really good friends. Maybe he knows something about this Castillo fellow. And maybe Johnny went to see him first."

"Green River it is, then. Let's go."

Johnny rode all night and the morning found him still on the road, on a horse other than his Barranca, pondering the reasons he was on that particular road. He still felt bad for leaving like he did. But, he couldn't possibly have told his family he was heading back south of the border. Not when he knew they would undoubtedly try to stop him, no matter his reasons. They all were aware it was still dangerous for him down in Mexico, even after two years. Not only because of his last minute rescue from the Rurales' clutches, but also because he had made enemies, powerful enemies, while he was hanging around the border towns making his living as a gunfighter.

As such, he had sold his services but not always to the people who would pay him the most. He had been a very expensive gun for hire, and not everyone could afford him. But his high sense of ethics and honour forbade him to simply take the best offer. Very often, he had worked for the underdogs, those who couldn't really pay for his services but whose cause was right. This was what had landed him in lots of trouble with some very influential people in Mexico and one of the Rurales in particular, his very own El Capitán. And this was why he had to answer that summons he had received.

Oh, he had done his share of bad deeds when he began his climb up the ladder in the world of gunfighters. He had killed whoever he had been commissioned to kill, not bothering to find out if it was right or wrong. He had been young, then. He had felt the power being good with a gun gave him and he had been hungry... Hungry for the fame his prowess with a gun would give him. Hungry for the fear people would feel when facing his gun. Those were the very same people who would normally have looked down on him because of his mixed heritage. Hungry for revenge against everyone who had hurt him when he was just a small kid incapable of defending himself. He had been full of hate for his father and the many stepfathers he had had in his short life but strangely enough, not for his mama who made him live that life. Those feelings of hate and revenge were what had pushed him into that world of violence – that and a few events he had witnessed and which sent him directly into a world that had not really been meant for him.

He was still very young for a gunfighter of his renown but he was good, so good that he was still among the top ones. Hell, he might still be THE top one, even though he was now retired from that life. He could have chosen the best-paid jobs only and made a fortune out of it, like some of his fellow gunfighters did. But then, slowly, he had found that taking a life wasn't as thrilling as he had thought it would be. He had realized that each time he was killing someone, whether that person deserved it or not, a small part of himself was dying. By that time, he was a few months short of 17 years old. And to atone for his earlier sins, he had started to choose his jobs differently, checking carefully for who he felt was fighting for the right cause and then siding with those people, no matter what.

That's how he had met with the members of the Castillo family and he owed them, he owed them more than he could repay.


	6. Chapter 6

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 8

Scott and Murdoch made it to Green River in a relatively short time as they rode their horses hard. The town was already bustling even though it was barely past eight o'clock. They stopped right in front of Val's office, dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching rail.

Scott pushed his hat back on his head while Murdoch arched his back; trying to get rid of the knots he was feeling in it. Only a few hours in the saddle and it was already giving him trouble. How would he be able to go after his wayward son like this? He shoved these thoughts into a corner of his mind and resolutely walked the few steps separating him from the Sheriff's office and pushed the door open.

Val was sitting at his desk, hidden behind a pile of paper. They could barely see the top of his head but they heard him mumbling something about a 'darn piece of paper' he seemed to have misplaced.

Scott couldn't help but smile at the sight while Murdoch coughed to make their presence known, seeing that their entrance had not provoked any reaction. Val rose and faced the newcomers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth once he realized who it was.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Lancers," he said amiably. "Where's Johnny? He's not with you?" he continued, taking the papers on his desk to put them on a shelf behind him.

"That's why we're here," Murdoch started to say.

Val looked at them in turn, alarmed at the elder Lancer's tone. He noted their worried expressions and felt as if an invisible hand was clutching at his heart.

"What's wrong?"

"Johnny's gone," Murdoch said again.

"Gone? What do you mean gone? When? I saw him just yesterday morning and he was happy to be back."

"I know," Scott answered with a knowing smile that made Val blush. "While he was away on that business trip, we got a letter for him which Murdoch gave to him yesterday evening. But he read it later on, after we had both called it a night. And then, he left."

"Did he tell you where he was going?"

"No, we didn't realize he had left until this morning, at breakfast," replied Murdoch, as he retrieved the letter from his pocket and handed it over to Val. "You read Spanish, don't you?"

Val nodded and took the letter. He unfolded it and read the brief message. His brows came together and a surprised expression appeared on his face.

"You know who this is from?" Scott inquired.

"Yeah."

"Well, go on. Tell us," the young man continued, a little impatiently. "Murdoch thinks it's from a woman."

Val cleared his throat and he motioned for the men to sit down while he himself sat back on his chair.

"He's right. This is from Flor Castillo. She's a friend of Johnny's and as far as I know, they haven't seen each other for oh, maybe four years or so."

"Why would she send such a cryptic message to Johnny? What else do you know about her?" demanded Murdoch.

"Well, it's a long story," he started to say. But when he saw Murdoch's frown and dark look, he quickly added, "And, it's not what you think, Mr. Lancer. Flor isn't one of Johnny's girls, far from it in fact."

Johnny had been riding all night long and most of the morning at a relatively good pace, alternating between trot and walk, covering about eight miles an hour. He had decided early on to make it straight to Bakersfield and spend the night. At the pace his horse was going, even with the required stops along the way to rest both of them, he figured he'd get there towards the late part of the afternoon or early in the evening.

He had never imagined he would be back so quickly to the same town he left just a short while ago, while on a business trip with the Army. He should have stopped earlier, maybe at Tulare or in-between Tulare and Bakersfield, but he sensed he needed to put as much distance as possible between him and Lancer.

Once in Bakersfield, he headed directly to the livery and left his horse to the care of a stable boy with instructions as to the kind of care he wanted for his horse. Then, taking his saddlebags and his rifle, he went to the hotel to secure a room for the night. He already knew where to go to take first a hot bat and then have something good to eat and maybe, just maybe, a couple of beers at the saloon afterwards.

He needed to find it in himself to revert to his alter ego and become Johnny Madrid once again. It's only under the gunfighter's persona that he would be able to cross the border and head straight into trouble. He knew it and it didn't sit well with him. Not after all the efforts he had put into becoming Johnny Lancer, a respectable rancher. But, he had no choice. He felt it was necessary to go back, even if it might lead to disaster.

Johnny ended up calling it an early night, foregoing what seemed like an interesting game of poker. He finished his second beer and went back to the hotel, stopping at the reception desk.

"Would you mind making sure I'm awake at four thirty?"

"That early, Mr. Lancer?" asked the same clerk that had been on duty on his prior trip.

"Yeah! I still have a long way to go and I want to get a good head start, before it's too hot."

"You can count on me. Have a good night, Sir."

Johnny smiled at being called "Sir" and shook his head as he thought about how Scott would surely have something to say regarding this. But no, he couldn't start thinking about his family. He had to concentrate on what he was going to do and how to do it. And for this, he needed to rest. So, he trudged his way up the stairs and to his room.

He was weary, more than he cared to admit. He had not had a good night's sleep for a few days and it was starting to show. He closed the door, locked it and put the key on the bedside table. Then, he took his shirt off and sent it flying onto the small table that stood close to the window. He sat down on the bed, pulled one boot up and removed the spur, doing the same with the other boot and spur. With a big sigh, he finally dropped both boots onto the floor and kicked them out of the way.

He looked at his pants, pondering whether or not he should take them off. While deciding, he unbuckled his gun belt and hung it to the bedpost on the right side. Finally, his decision taken, he unbuttoned his pants and slipped out of them. They went the same way as his shirt did and landed on the table with a thud. He only kept his underwear as he slid under the fresh bed sheets. He fell in a deep sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The Lancers had been shocked when Val told them who Flor Castillo was in relation to Johnny and what he knew of the events that had led the young man to help Flor, her family and the inhabitants of a small village being threaten by the Rurales. The Sheriff didn't know the whole story, only what his friend had told him, but it had been enough to read between the lines. And what was between those lines now spelled disaster to him.

"I'm going with you," he said, decisively, as he slammed his now empty coffee cup on the desk.

"You what?" retorted Scott.

"I said…"

"I know what you said. But, Val…"

"There's no 'But Val', Scott. Your hot-headed brother is heading straight into disaster. He can't go back there. Those damn Rurales will get him as soon as he sets foot in Mexico."

"We know that," Murdoch pointed out. "That's why we're going after him. But you can't just leave your office. The Cattlemen Associations needs to..."

"Maybe I can't but I will. I have no time to get the Cattlemen's approval for this. And besides, you can give me approval. Aren't you a member of the Association?"

"You know that I am, but, Val…"

"My decision is made, Mr. Lancer. My deputy will take care of business while I'm away."

"Even if I give you my permission, you may still find yourself jobless when you return."

"I don't give a damn, Mr. Lancer. Johnny is my best friend and there's no way on earth, or in hell for that matter, that I'm gonna let him do this. You have absolutely no idea what they will do to him if they get their hands on him."

"You're wrong, Sheriff. I know they will kill him, or try to."

"Oh no, Mr. Lancer, they'll do more than that. Johnny has defied the Mexican system – YOU have defied them," Val added, while he poked Murdoch's chest with his finger. "They will make sure his death is extremely painful and they will make it public. Don't go thinking that because you've paid them money to release him, they will simply turn a blind eye to his return and let him help the people again."

Scott was listening at the exchange between his father and his brother's friend with a mounting feeling of panic. He was perfectly aware there were still many things they didn't know about his brother's past and that some of those things could really hurt the young man and those around him. He resolved then and there to do everything in his power to get his brother out of the situation he was once again letting himself in for. And if he needed to hire professionals to do it, he would.

"Val."

"Don't you dare try to stop me, Scott Lancer."

"No, I won't. I'll be glad to have you around." As these words escaped his lips, Scott knew he was going against his father's wishes, but he didn't care. He had the feeling they would need Val's help and whatever other help they could find on their way.

Val gave a piercing look at Scott and what he saw in the young man's eyes was a fierce determination. He smiled, suddenly comprehending what it was that his friend had seen in the young Bostonian – a man to be trusted, a man to watch his back, no matter what.

"Let's get ready then. We're already late as it is," he said, simply.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 9

Johnny had no use for the wake-up call from the clerk, at 4 a.m. He was already up and around. By the time the night clerk came to knock at his door, he was shaved, dressed and almost ready to go.

"Mr. Lancer, are you awake?" asked a polite voice on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, I am. Be coming down shortly," Johnny answered.

"I got some coffee started for you. No one else is awake yet," continued the clerk, the sound of his voiced muffled by the thickness of the door.

"Thanks."

Before long, Johnny went down the stairs and made it to the counter where a cup of hot coffee awaited him along with a few hot biscuits and butter on a small plate. He thanked the clerk, grabbed them and headed over to a series of chairs placed at the bottom of the stairs, along one side of the wall. He sat down and enjoyed his morning coffee. The clerk had made it just the way he liked it – strong, no sugar and no milk.

He made a mental note to tell Scott about this particular hotel and the nice people working here and that made him chuckle. He would never have noticed something like this before. Hell, he never did stay very often in hotels at that time – couldn't afford anything too fancy. He had mostly slept on the trail or in stables or anywhere he could find where he would be in relative safety – often in a not so soft bed with some female company that he, somehow, always found without too much trouble.

Now, things were so much better for him. As Murdoch Lancer's son, he could afford almost any fancy hotels he wished. But his preference always rested on simpler accommodations. He still didn't feel quite right in any place too ostentatious and, more often then not, he would choose a smaller hotel, unless his father was with him. Then, he would give in and try to make his father happy. His father… Somehow, this was now a comforting thought. Who would have believed that Johnny Madrid would have fallen hard for a father, a brother and a sister – a family, a real one?

Fifteen minutes later, he was on his way to the livery to retrieve his horse – a small dark grey mustang he had named Shadow and had trained himself. He was fond of the horse. Sure, it wasn't Barranca, but next to his palomino, Shadow was his favorite horse at the ranch. He was fast and strong and possessed a sure-footing, just what Johnny needed for this part of his journey to his past. A journey he wasn't really thrilled about but that he needed to do, for his peace of mind.

True to his word, Val had hurried out of his office to get a hold of Jimmy, his deputy, whom he had found making his rounds. Val had taken the young man back to the office, where Murdoch and Scott were still waiting.

"Jimmy, you don't go doing anything stupid while I'm away, okay?"

"No, Sheriff, I won't. You know you can count on me."

"I know that. Now, I don't have time to tell Mayor Higgs that I'm leaving. If he asks, just tell him I've gone with the Lancers on a rescue mission."

"A rescue mission?"

"Yeah. Just tell him I'll be back as quickly as possible."

The young man nodded; he was so thoroughly entranced with his "new" temporary responsibilities as sheriff of Green River during Val's absence that he didn't bother about asking who they were going to rescue. By the time the Sheriff finished giving him his instructions, he was puffing his chest.

Val and Scott were still laughing as they left town, even though the situation was less than cheerful. Soon after reaching the limits of the town, they stopped.

"Where to?" asked Scott, looking expectantly to Val.

"If I know him well, he will choose the most difficult way to get to the border."

"Why?" asked Murdoch.

"To make sure whoever is following him, if someone does that is, will think twice about going after him."

"You're sure?" inquired Scott, thoughtfully.

"Almost. But then, we're talking about Johnny here, not any two-bit no account."

"So, which way do we go, then?" asked Murdoch.

"Depends where you want to catch him – before, or after, he crosses the border."

"Preferably before," answered Scott. "Particularly since you said it is still very dangerous for him down there."

"He's got a few choices. He can cross the Tehachapi range either at the Tehachapi Pass or at the Tejon Pass. If he chooses the Tehachapi Pass, he'll be heading through the Mojave Desert in the direction of Barstow and then Phoenix and Tucson. If he takes the Tejon Pass, it's going to be in the direction of San Diego. Once there, he either heads over to Tucson or he crosses the border and travels through the Altar Desert up until he reaches Nogales."

"Nogales? Is that where this woman lives?" Murdoch wanted to know.

"Nope, but not far from there."

"What do you propose, then?" Scott asked. "We've got no idea which way he took."

"I'd say we ride first to Bakersfield. He's gotta go that way, no matter where he's heading after for. Maybe we'll find some clues there."

"To Bakersfield, then. He has at least an eight hour head start on us," Murdoch decided.

"Well, let's not waste any more time," said Scott, spurring his mount, closely followed by Val and Murdoch.

Johnny had been on the road for about two hours. The area surrounding Bakersfield was very similar to Lancer with rolling hills and green pastures as far as his eyes could see. And it reminded him of home. Not that long ago, he wouldn't have minded traveling alone, being on his own, taking care of himself and minding his own business. Well, up until he'd found work or trouble… And trouble had a way of finding him, always and forever, without consideration as to whether or not he was looking for it.

But now, things had changed. Gone were the days where he enjoyed being alone. Now, he was craving the presence of his family. He missed the easy camaraderie he shared with his brother and how Teresa and him were always teasing each other. He even missed bumping heads with his father, although this was becoming more and more rare.

This time, he felt as if he was on a deserted road, en route to perdition – which he was, in a way. Why was he being so loyal to his few friends? He snorted and looked around himself, listening to the sound of nature. Here and there, birds were chirping, chasing each other in the blue sky above his head and in the few trees disseminated along the path he was following.

He could feel his horse's restlessness under him. The mustang sure seemed to feel like he wanted to go like the wind. Before long, they would get into a more wooded area and Johnny would have to get the horse going at an easier pace. It was now or never.

"That what you want, Shadow?"

The horse shook his head up and down and Johnny laughed.

"Let's go, then," he said, spurring his mount to a gallop and letting him take full lead, only to stop as he reached the line of trees announcing the beginning of the forest, a couple of miles further.

"Whoa, Shadow. Enough," the young man said, as he pulled the reins to make his horse slow down. "Take it easy, boy."

They entered the woods slowly, at an easier gait. Huge oaks, majestics firs and pines and willows and poplars now surrounded them, along with various other vegetation – the names of which Johnny didn't know. They travelled along a narrow road, snaking across the forest. Soon afterwards, they reached a river and stopped there to rest a bit. Johnny led Shadow to the water. He bent down to drink the cool refreshing water and after refilling his canteen, let his horse drink his fill.

He then walked to a nearby oak and stretched down in the shade provided by its leaves; after ground-tying Shadow not far from him. He pulled his hat over his eyes and allowed himself to drift off for a few minutes.

Half an hour later, he woke up, feeling rested and ready to tackle the next part of his journey. He went to his horse, patted his neck and scratched him behind the ears. The horse whinnied with pleasure. The young man mounted swiftly and, once more taking the reins in his hands, he urged his mount back on the narrow path leading through the forest and slowly up the mountain.


	8. Chapter 8

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 10

Val had thought they would make good speed and get to Bakersfield in no time, quickly enough to at least try to reduce the distance between them and Johnny. He might have… if he had been alone. As it was, he had not taken into account the various problems that started getting in their way.

Halfway between Green River and Bakersfield, Scott's horse slowed down and started to walk with an uneven gait.

"Val, Murdoch… Wait!" he called to the two men who rode in front of him.

They both stopped and turned their mounts to face the younger man. Val's brows were raised as he asked, "What is it, Scott?"

"I think my horse has thrown a shoe. I have to take a look," he answered as he dismounted, closely followed by Val who approached him after handing the reins of his horse to Murdoch.

By the time Murdoch had come nearer to them, they had already assessed the horse's condition. Sure enough, the horse had lost the shoe from his right foreleg.

"Shit," Val exclaimed. "We're in the middle of nowhere, naturally."

"There's no way I can go on with him like that," said Scott irritably.

"Yeah, I know. Well, there's not a lot of choices. I'll ride ahead up to the next town and get a 'smith' to come here."

"We'll lose too much time, Sheriff," Murdoch said, as he dismounted and headed over to where the other two were after ground tying both his and Val's horses. "First, look around to see if you can find the missing shoe."

"And, even if we find it, what good will it be?" asked Scott.

"Because, if you find it, I can put it back on. I've got some tools with me. I always carry some."

Saying so, Murdoch bent down and looked at the horse's hooves. "And if you can't find it, we'll take off the other shoe. Your horse is sound, Scott, you should be able to go on with him until we hit the next town; we'll only go slower. It's not ideal, but once we're there, we'll have him shod properly."

Scott nodded and went with Val, to look for the shoe, only to return a few minutes later, empty-handed.

"Murdoch, I don't like riding him like this. Not on the rough terrain we are travelling on."

"Oh, I guess you could always ride double with me," said Val with a cheeky grin. "That is, if you can bear me to have me lead the way."

Scott looked at him sharply and raised his shoulders.

"I wonder what it is my brother finds so appealing in you, Val Crawford. You're…"

"I'm just wonderful," continued the lawman, with a light in his eyes that reminded Scott of his brother, whenever he's about to do or say something that is sure to make him laugh.

"Murdoch, I guess we'll do that. I really don't want to add to my horse's discomfort with me on his back."

"As you wish, Scott. But, let me make sure the nails are all out, then. We don't want that horse to go lame because of something so trivial as forgetting to remove everything that could hurt him. As far as I can see, your horse's shoe just fell off, there's no damage to the hoof."

While Murdoch pulled the one remaining nail from the horse's hoof and removed the front left shoe as well, Val went to his horse and mounted, waiting for Scott. 'Oh boy, wait until I tell Johnny that I rode double with his fancy brother,' he thought. 'He's not gonna believe me.'

As Scott climbed behind him, Val couldn't help it but start chuckling. He could feel Scott tensing behind him and that made him chuckle even louder.

"Now what?"

"Nothing, Scott. Was just thinking about something. You ready?"

"Yes, I am. We've lost enough time, let's go."

And so it was that the three men resumed their trip and went in the direction of Tulare, where they would look for a blacksmith to take care of the horse. And maybe, just maybe, they would also find a clue as to where Johnny had gone.

Johnny was feeling lonesome and couldn't believe that leaving Lancer as he had could hurt so much. He suddenly realized that maybe he would never see his family again. He didn't know exactly what awaited him in Mexico but he wasn't fool enough not to recognize he might get into something he wouldn't be able to get out of. But, if Flor Castillo was calling for help, he had to go. He owed it to her, her family and friends – those people who had helped him in a moment of need.

As he rode, lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the beauty of the nature surrounding him. Those beautiful tall pines, majestic firs, immense oaks that hovered above him, as if to protect him, meant nothing to him at the moment. All that mattered was getting to his destination as quickly as possible and trying to get there without meeting too much trouble on the way and as discreetly as possible.

Every couple of hours or so, he had stopped for a break, as the path he was on was often on uneven ground. He didn't want to push Shadow too much, even if he knew the horse was very sound and could go a long way before feeling tired. When he reached the pass, he decided to stop there for the night. There was still enough daylight for him to go on a bit, but he'd been on that road before and was aware that, soon, the sky would darken and it would become too dangerous to cross the pass. He started looking around him to find the perfect spot for him and Shadow to spend the night.

Although the Tejon Fort was located at the foot of the pass and no longer in use by the Army, people were now living near it and some were using the buildings as living quarters. They were mostly Indians and Mexicans and were all working at Rancho El Tejon. Johnny could have gone there to spend the night, as he knew the owner of the rancho. He had worked briefly for him, the only time he'd come that far north a few years ago. The only time, in fact, he had come close to going to see his father with the intention of claiming the life of the bastard who had sired him and threw both his mother and him out on the road one night. But, as he got closer to Lancer, he got scared and stopped at the ranchero instead, working as a ranch hand as he took the time to cool down. Johnny shook his head. He didn't particularly want to remember that moment, not with what he knew about his father now.

He finally settled for a spot near a small stream that would provide cool water for both him and his horse. He unsaddled the small mustang and brushed him. And then he made camp and lit a small fire he would use later on to heat water for a cup of coffee and to cook his meal. He had let the horse walk down to the stream and joined him.

"Tell me, Shadow, you don't mind if I talk to you, do you?" he asked, as he was filling his canteen by the stream, gently pushing the horse away from the water.

The horse looked at him placidly, shoved Johnny and returned to the stream to drink his fill. Johnny laughed and pushed him again, more firmly this time.

"Here, let me finish filling this and put some water in that pot, then you can have all the water to yourself."

Shadow bowed his head and started munching on the grass instead. Johnny returned to his camp and put the water to boil. He didn't feel like eating beans or jerky. He'd much prefer being at home and eating whatever Maria or Teresa was cooking for the family.

"Hey, Shadow, come over here, boy," he called to the horse. "How about I tie you here while I go hunting a little," he continued, tying the horse to a nearby bush as he spoke. "Be back shortly. Now, you don't move, okay? I want to talk to you, and I mean have a real good talk."

Johnny went to his saddlebags to retrieve his hunting knife and left the clearing to enter the forest. He didn't want to use his gun or his rifle, not when he was so near the fort, but he took the rifle along anyhow. He knew he might have visitors during the evening. The Indians were bound to see his fire and he couldn't help that. They were friendly, though, so he wasn't overly worried about them coming upon his camp. He even knew some of them.

They had made the trip to Tulare in relative silence. Scott didn't feel like talking and Val didn't have much to say to Murdoch. Finally, they arrived in town a few hours after what they would normally have, had things gone the right way.

Murdoch, who knew the town well, took them to the blacksmith and, after discussing it with the man, left Scott's horse in his care and agreed to fetch him early the next morning. Then they headed over to the livery and left their other two horses there. Their next stop was the hotel to book rooms for their overnight stay. As it was already past seven o'clock, it made no sense to continue their trip. Even if they had rented another horse for Scott, they would have to stop in the middle of nowhere and sleep under the stars.

Val wouldn't have minded, and he knew Scott wouldn't have either – anything to get them closer to Johnny. But Murdoch… That was another story altogether and one reason that made them lose precious time. The Sheriff was perfectly aware of the man's unfit state to travel such long distances. The young ex-gunfighter had told him about his father's recurring problems with his back, thanks to Pardee's bullet.

Murdoch was a proud man, and he was stubborn. Val felt bad for the older man. He could only imagine what Murdoch was going through. Boy, he wasn't Johnny's father and he felt bad when he learned of the younger man's disappearance. He was ready to move heaven and earth, even go to hell, to find his friend – and to hell is where they were going, he had no doubt about that. So, he couldn't blame the father for wanting to do the same.

However, there was no sense risking further delaying their trip. So, when Murdoch proposed to stop for the night, saying their horses needed the rest, both Scott and Val had agreed, for the man's sake. As it was, the distance between them and Johnny was more than eight hours now and there was no way they could reduce it right then. But, if they left early the following morning, maybe they could get to Bakersfield more quickly.

After taking care of their sleeping arrangements, the three men went over to the saloon to get something to eat and to drink a beer or two. Upon entering, Val stopped at the batwing doors and surveyed the room – just as Johnny used to do. Scott almost bumped into him and smiled at the sight.

"Old habits die hard," he said quietly to Val's back.

Val snorted. "Yeah, can't be helped."

He went in, followed closely by Scott and Murdoch. He headed over to a table at the far end of the room from which they could see everything. Val sat so that his back was against the wall. Scott chuckled as he sat on his left while Murdoch sat on his right. Val was acting just like Johnny would.

"Tell me, Val, do you and Johnny fight for the chair by the wall when you're together in a saloon?" asked Scott innocently.

Val smiled. "Yeah, we usually toss a coin before we enter the saloon. Heads, he takes the chair. Tails, I take it."

"Be serious for a minute, Val."

"Alright. Johnny always sits on THE chair. He wouldn't feel comfortable otherwise and I'm happy to let him. Like it better?"

"Yes. Thanks, Val."

A waitress came by and they placed their order. Val looked discreetly around the room, very much in the same fashion as his friend. So far, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. A few men sitting at the closest table to theirs were deeply absorbed in a poker game. Some more were quietly eating their meal and others were at the counter, drinking glass after glass of beer and whisky. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing different from any other saloon.

Their lunch came and they ordered a second beer. While they were eating, four men came into the saloon and sat at a table nearby. They had obviously already started drinking before they came. At least two of them had. Val looked at the other two with narrowed eyes and realized that he knew them. He carefully lowered his hat over his eyes while Scott looked at him curiously.

"I tell you, Wade, it was HIM."

"Nah, impossible. He was killed two years ago, in Mexico."

Murdoch and Scott both raised their heads upon hearing this and started to move. Val restrained them by putting his hand on Scott's arm.

"Don't, Scott. Wait."

Scott sat back and so did Murdoch, trusting Val.

"I saw him as clear as I see you. No way I'm mistaken. Saw his eyes, and noticed the way his gun was tied down low on his hips."

"There are other half-breed gunfighters in this world, Buck."

"None like him. I rode with him, and so did you. I know what he looks like and it was him alright. Only he's grown a little."

"He was sure a little bastard back then," Wade said, chuckling. "You talked to him?"

"Nah. Didn't dare. Not after what we did to him the last time. Guess I took the coward's way out. I flattened myself against the wall and hoped he didn't recognize me."

"You're really sure?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? Yeah, I'm sure I saw Johnny Madrid. As sure as the sun rises every morning."

"Do you think he's after us?"

"Don't know. And don't really want to know. I think we should move on."

Val got up and walked over to their table. He pulled a chair and sat down.

"What the hell is…" the man named Wade started to say.

"Crawford? Val Crawford? Is that you?" Buck said.

"Yeah, it's me. So, my friends, what about Johnny Madrid?"

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 9

Johnny came back to his camp, not long after, with a fat jackrabbit. He dropped it on a large tree leaf he had found on his way back and went to look at Shadow.

"Miss me, Compadre?" he asked, scratching a spot behind the horse's left ear. He untied the horse and walked him nearer to his place by the fire. He tied him to a small bush, sat closer to the fire and started to skin the rabbit. Once it was done, he skewered it on a long thin stick and put it to roast above the fire.

"You know, talking to my horse used to keep me sane back then. Well, it did, somehow. I remember telling Star all kinds of things… things I've never said to anyone because… oh because I didn't have anyone to tell it to or thought nobody would care."

Johnny smiled and turned the rabbit over, wishing he'd thought about bringing some salt with him. He looked at the clear sky above his head and at the bright moon hovering so near that he felt as if he could touch it. Suddenly, a great sadness filled his heart as he remembered one night, many years ago, when he had felt he only had to extend his arm and his fingers to touch the moon, just like tonight.

"I tell you, Shadow, it hasn't always been easy to just go on and live my life. No, not easy at all. That beautiful moon up there, I've seen one just like this many years ago. I was just a little kid with no past and no future. I was all alone…"

… that night. He'd fled what he had known as "home" for the last six months. He had been just over 10 years old and already old beyond his years. He had just witnessed his mother's murder and had almost been killed, too. He clearly remembered the events that lead to that nightmarish evening. He would never forget them, ever. He would never forget nor forgive Carlos, his newest 'stepfather' at the time.

Johnny had been sick in the few days leading up to that night and hadn't really been up to working. But, Carlos had forced him to. He had even taken him near the church himself and told one of his friends to watch the little boy, to make sure he was doing what was expected of him – begging, that is.

Johnny had tried very hard as he knew what would happen should he go back home without money. He knew both his mother and he would pay the price. But, he had been just a small boy and what he needed wasn't to be in the streets, begging for money and singing for the rich people when his throat was hurting making it very difficult to even swallow. No, what he needed was to be in a bed, with his mother coddling him, nursing him back to health.

But, that was not to be. When Johnny finally went back home, Carlos was waiting for him outside. He had grabbed him roughly by the arm and shoved him inside the little house. He already knew the boy had barely been able to get some money. His friend had returned just a few minutes before Johnny and told him of the boy's failure.

So bad had the boy's coughing been that people had been afraid of catching whatever it was that he had. Some had given him a few coins, taking pity on the poor dirty little boy, but most had just walked by him, barely looking at him or glancing at him in disgust, covering their nose and their mouth.

Carlos had beaten him up with his belt and his fists and his feet. The boy had tried to defend himself but he was already weakened by his sickness and much too small to fight a grown-up like his stepfather. He had finally crumbled into a heap at Carlos' feet while the man kept berating him.

The door opened and his mother had come in, laughing and exchanging pleasantries with a man in tow. She had stopped dead in her tracks, looking first at her son then at her so-called husband. Johnny remembered her yelling at Carlos, telling him the boy was sick and wasn't in any state to work, that he had been supposed to look after him while she had agreed to work more during the boy's sickness. And now he was lying on the floor, barely conscious, and she had done extra work for nothing. She would have to take time off to care for the little boy.

Saying so, she had turned back to face the man with her and told him to leave. The man had protested but, seeing she was really riled up, left without waiting for his change. Carlos, already mad at Johnny, had started on her and had taken his belt to her, too. But, she had retaliated and went at him, scratching him in the face. Johnny had crawled into a corner of the room and huddled down there, trembling, both with fear and fever. He had seen Carlos hit his mother very hard, in a daze. He had seen her stumble, hitting her head on the corner of the kitchen table as she lost her balance and fell on the floor. He had seen the pool of blood that had formed under her head, her lifeblood quickly leaving her. And he had screamed and screamed, unable to stop himself, until Carlos had turned once again on him.

He'd seen Carlos approaching him. The man had grabbed him, lifting him as if he weighted no more than a sack of potatoes and hurling him violently against the wall. He had almost lost consciousness but fought to stay awake. He had known if he let go, he'd die and somehow, he refused to die… refused to give up, not until he'd done what he needed to do for his mother. Desperately, he had scrambled away from the wall, away from the man, and had grabbed the first thing he could put his hand on – a huge knife that was on the table, mere feet away from his mother's lifeless body.

And when Carlos went at him again, he let the man bend over him and, at the last minute, just as Carlos was about to put his hands around his throat and snuff the life out of him, he had thrust the knife in the man's chest and pushed as hard as was able to. Then, all had gone black.

When he woke up later, the first thing he had seen was Carlos lying on his back, his fingers clutching at the knife. Johnny crept away from him and hurried to his mother's side. He had known he was too late but he put his head on her breast and made a vow.

"You see, Shadow, that day, I decided nobody would ever hurt me again the way Carlos had. Nobody would ever force me to do things I didn't want to do. I swore that I would become strong, and that people would fear me and respect me. I swore that one day everybody would know my name and nobody would ever look down on me again. I took her ring – yes, this one I'm wearing now – and I left."

Johnny stopped talking, and took a sip of his now cold coffee and a piece of the cooked rabbit. He felt like crying, like he hadn't in years. He looked at the moon.

"Yeah, you saw me, that same night. I went straight into the desert, not far from that accursed town and I cried my eyes out that night. It was the last time I ever cried," he said coldly.

"Then, I fell asleep on the ground, wishing I could reach up to you. I was hurting like hell. Never hurt that much in my life both physically and there, in my head and my heart. But, you looked out for me. Were it not for your bright light, those nice people would never have found me. As it was, they took me in, brought me to their small village and nursed me back to health. And then, unknowingly, they took me to another hell – the orphanage. But, that's another story, Shadow. Maybe I'll tell you one day but right now, I feel spent up and I think I'll call it a night. You don't mind, do you?"

The horse whinnied softly, as if he understood what the young man in front of him was saying. Johnny smiled, a very sad smile, and went to sleep.

Scott and Murdoch were now standing on each side of Val as he spoke to two of the four men who sat at the table. And they looked anything but friendly.

"Yeah, what about him? He's dead, isn't he?" Wade retorted.

"It's not what Buck here seems to think, now is it?"

"Val, we've got nothing against you, so why don't you just let us leave this place, huh?" Buck said.

"Oh no! I want you boys to answer some questions, and you, Buck, seem to be just the right person to answer them."

"Well, it's like this. I think I've seen him but it's impossible, he's dead. Was killed a couple of years ago, down in Mexico."

"Yeah, and we would know because we were th…" Wade started to say just to have Buck kick his leg under the table.

"You were there?" the older of the men accompanying Val said, his voice taking on a menacing tone.

The two men looked at each other and then at Val and his two friends.

"And just who are you? You don't look like gunfighters to me," Wade continued.

"That's because they're not, Wade," Val said, smiling in a very lazy manner. "They're my employers."

"Yes, he's working for us," Scott said. "In fact, we are very interested in what you might be able to tell us about Johnny Madrid," he continued, as he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, pulled it out to place it right beside Wade's chair and sat on it. "We've got a score to settle with him. So, any help you can give us would be greatly appreciated."

Murdoch looked at him and smiled and grabbed another chair, positioning it in such a fashion that it blocked one of the ways out for the two men – the other being taken care of by Scott. The other two men at the table were too far gone to react in any manner and just continued snoring, oblivious of the world around them.

"Yes, why don't you tell the three of us, Gentlemen?" Murdoch said.

Wade and Buck cleared their throats, took a swig of their drinks and looked at their almost empty glasses.

"Bartender, another bottle of whisky," called Scott, "and make it your best one. And bring us three more glasses, if you please."

No sooner was the bottle on the table than Wade took it and poured a healthy shot into his glass, then his partner's glass. Scott poured smaller shots for Val, his father and himself.

"Why don't you start?" he suggested, looking at Buck.

"Well, it's like this," the man finally said after taking another swig. "As I said, I saw him 30 miles or so from here, in a small town in-between here and Bakersfield. He looked at me, straight in the eyes, but it was as if he never saw me or recognized me. Seemed preoccupied by something, I think."

Val looked at him expectantly and exchanged a worried look with Scott that went unnoticed by their two newest 'friends'.

"No, no, no, my friends. We'd like you to backtrack a little," Val said, his voice soft but his eyes very cold.

"Backtrack?" asked Wade, suddenly nervous.

"Yes, what did you mean when you said you were there, down in Mexico," Murdoch intervened.

"Right, and why is it that you're afraid Johnny might be after you?" added Val.

Both men looked at each other, fear showing in their eyes and their hands trembling ever so slightly. They could feel sweat beads forming on their forehead and travelling slowly down into their eyes. They knew Val was a friend of Madrid, or at least he had been at one time, and that meant trouble if he were to learn the part they had played in the young gunfighter's capture by the Rurales. None of them wanted to talk about that time but figured they wouldn't be given any choice.

"He… He was our ticket to freedom," Wade started.

"What do you mean?" asked Scott. "Your 'ticket to freedom'?"

"Yeah," the man continued. "We were with him at the time of that small revolution he was involved in, near Nogales."

"We sided with the people against the Rurales and a very powerful landowner. What was his name, Wade?"

"Castaneda. León Castaneda."

"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, we created a lot of problems for him. We cut his fences, ran off his cattle, and scared the hell out of his vaqueros."

"Burned a few barns and busted a few heads along the way?" inquired Scott, wincing at the thought of his brother doing that, although he had figured Johnny had done so at one point in his career.

"No, Johnny didn't want us to do that. He felt those vaqueros were just obeying their boss' orders and he didn't particularly want to hurt them," said Wade. "You don't know the boy, it seems. Johnny could be a mean little bastard but he wouldn't hurt people just for the fun of it."

Murdoch felt a sense of relief upon hearing Wade's words. He was finally getting a sense of what had happened before his younger son had faced the firing squad. It was something he had always been afraid to ask about, for fear of learning his son had, indeed, been one of those cold-hearted gunfighters he hated so much. Just like Pardee had been; one who wouldn't think twice before putting a bullet in a man's back! He tried to sit more comfortably, intent upon hearing the rest of the story.

"It's true. We don't know the boy much," responded Scott. "But, please, go on. We don't mind spending all night on this conversation but, believe me, talk you will."

"You don't look that dangerous to me," Buck said, rebelling against the whole thing. He really didn't want to get into this.

Val gave him a venomous look, one that would have killed him on the spot, if looks could kill.

"You will go on, Buck, if you know what's good for you."

"What I want to know, before I go on, is what is Madrid to you two?" the man said, looking simultaneously at Scott and Murdoch.

Murdoch put both his large hands onto the table and said, very slowly, "Madrid is my son."

"And my brother," continued Scott, smiling very slightly.

Wade and Buck swallowed nervously and tried to get up.

"You will both sit down. Right now," Val said, brusquely. "And you will tell us everything you've done to Johnny back then."

The other two men snoring on the table chose that moment to wake up. A look of incomprehension clouded their eyes. Buck sighed and shook his head.

"Get out of here, both of you," he said. "You've got nothing to do with this."

"Oh no! They're not going," Val said. "You both stay put and don't give us any trouble. You might regret meeting these two bastards."

"What's going on?" asked the younger one.

"Nothing that concerns you," answered Wade. "Just do like Crawford says and everything will be fine."

"Val, they really have nothing to do with this. We just met them a few months ago. They are only ranch hands and we're working for the same rancher."

"I don't care, Wade. They stay put. I'm not taking any chances."

"All right, all right! Don't get mad," Buck said. "Just let me get them another bottle and they'll keep quiet."

Scott stopped him and once again called the bartender and ordered another bottle.

"Get on with your story. Let's not lose any more time," he said once the bottle was on the table.

Wade took a deep breath and continued. "Things started heating up. Those people we were working for, they couldn't pay us. There was no way they could. They were dirt poor. All the money they were making was going back to Castaneda."

"Yeah, and Madrid wanted to speed things up. He had a score to settle with one of the Rurales. We knew about it and we…"

"You betrayed him to them. Is that right?" Scott exploded.

"Yeah," Buck said, lowering his head. "We needed money and needed it bad. We figured that if we were to contact the Rurales and tell them how to catch Johnny, they would pay us handsomely."

"But, we were captured before we could put our plan into action," Wade said.

"What happened?" asked Murdoch.

"After a couple of days in jail, we were finally able to talk to the capitán of the Rurales, the one Johnny had a score to settle with. And we made a bargain with him. Our freedom against the boy's," Buck managed to say, after swallowing another glass of whisky.

"We told them where Johnny was hiding and they got him. We thought they would keep him in prison. I swear, Mr. Madrid, we never thought they would kill him."

Murdoch closed his eyes. If the situation wasn't that desperate, he would have laughed at the way Wade had addressed him – Mr. Madrid, indeed. But there was nothing to laugh about. These two men had betrayed his boy in the worst way possible – a boy who had trusted them to watch his back. They were two cowards and they were to blame for his son facing a firing squad.

He slowly got to his feet and looked down on the two men who were now trying to appear as small as possible on their seats.

"You… You betrayed him, thinking of your worthless hides. He had tried to do the honourable thing by helping those poor people. You had been willing to help him and then, you leave him to face the wrath of the Rurales? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Damn you! I ought to… to…"

"Mr. Lancer, stop!" Val said. "They're not worth your getting all in a pucker over them like this. Let me take them to the sheriff's office and see if he would be willing to keep them locked up for a few hours."

"You can't do that, Val! We haven't done anything illegal." Wade exclaimed.

"Yeah, on what ground?" Buck said as the name of his former friend's father registered in his mind – the name of one of the most powerful ranchers of the San Joaquin Valley.

"Public disturbance," answered Val, getting up and breaking his chair.

While doing so, he looked at the bartender. "James, you saw that, didn't you? They started the whole thing."

The bartender stared at Val and nodded, knowing better than to antagonize the sheriff of Green River, who happened to be both a friend and a good customer.

"But, but…" said Wade. "You can't do this… we have witnesses. We haven't done anything."

"Oh yes, I can and I will. And for your information, I'm Sheriff Val Crawford now. Have been for a few years. And the sheriff of this town owes me a favour. And I've just figured that now's the time to pay it," Val continued with a wide grin as he and Scott roughly took the two men by their arms and escorted them out of the saloon.

After giving a few bills to the bartender to pay for the broken chair, Murdoch also went out, leaving the two younger ranch hands behind.

Both shook their heads whispering, "Johnny Madrid… We've been sitting and drinking with Johnny Madrid's father!!!"

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 10

Johnny woke up with a start. The sun wasn't even up yet but it was close to the end of the night and the moon had already started its descent. The fire he had made had gone out during the night. It might have been what had woken him up – the absence of heat coming from it.

"Oh well, Shadow. No sense going back to sleep for less than half an hour. Want to drink before we ride again?"

The horse tossed his head up and down and Johnny chuckled, the memories of the last evening all but forgotten along with the fast disappearance of the bright moon… until next time. He rolled his bedroll and gathered his stuff. He'd decided against starting another fire just to heat a cup of coffee and took Shadow to the stream. He refilled his canteen, drank a bit and let his horse drink a little. Then, he walked the horse to the camp and saddled him up.

Making sure the fire was indeed out, he dispersed the ashes and finally secured his bedroll and his saddlebags on the horse's back. Once everything was done to his satisfaction, the young man put his left foot in the stirrup and swung his right leg over the saddle, dropping gracefully in the seat and settling down as comfortably as he could. With a last look around him, he finally headed toward the other side of the pass through a large enough pathway made by hundreds of passers-by over the years. The descent was more or less steep, depending on the places. All around him, the forest was still the mistress with its majestic trees pushing their branches to the sky, as if trying to reach it. Of the small stream, there were no more traces.

In Bakersfield, Johnny had inquired about the possibility of taking a stagecoach to San Diego and was told he could board one in Los Angeles. At first, he had intended to ride all the way to Nogales on Shadow's back but then he realized he loved his horse too much and didn't want him to be hurt, should he find trouble in Mexico. And he was quite sure he would find trouble along the way, whether on this side of the border or on the other side.

He felt apprehensive about going back to the very place where he had barely escaped with his life two years ago. Secretly, he was hoping his appearance had changed sufficiently. Enough so that nobody would recognize the young skinny half-breed gunfighter who had put his life on the line for the Mexican peons without any hopes of a good pay… but with the grim satisfaction of making life miserable for Castaneda, the landlord who was being so harsh on the poor people's backs. That and the pleasure he had felt in spoiling the fun for El Capitán.

The young man shook his head. He had to get past these thoughts and start thinking about how he would approach the whole thing once he reached Mexico, once he'd found out why exactly he had been sent for. Dwelling on the past wouldn't do anything good for him. Thus he kept travelling on the road leading to Los Angeles. He thought briefly about stopping by the Tejon Ranch to say hello to the people he had worked with in the past but he didn't really had the time. He needed to get to his destination as quickly as possible and that meant no delaying.

After leaving Wade and Buck in the care of the sheriff of Tulare, the two Lancers and Val went to the hotel to get a good night's sleep. They intended to leave very early the following morning. With all that had happened since the beginning of their trip, they were now more than ten hours behind Johnny. They would need to make good speed to get to Bakersfield and figure out where they would go from there.

And so it was that, even before the sun made its ascent into the sky to replace the moon, the three men were already on their way. Their horses were rested and ready for another long trip. They had no doubt they would need a lot of luck to eventually catch up with Johnny.

This time their trip was uneventful and they finally got to Bakersfield in the middle of the afternoon, after stopping a few times to let Murdoch stretch his back. They took their horses to the livery and paid the owner to care for them while they would be getting some food into their now empty bellies.

Murdoch took them to a small cafeteria he always went to, whenever he travelled to Bakersfield. They ate their hearty meal in a relative silence. When Murdoch got up to pay, Scott and Val went to wait outside.

Less than fifteen minutes later, the elder Lancer came out. Scott looked at him expectantly but he only shook his head.

"Now what?" asked the younger man to no one in particular.

"Let's go to the saloon and ask a few questions," Val suggested as he placed the hat he was holding in his hands back on his head.

"And enjoy a nice cold beer at the same time, I suppose," retorted Scott with a smile.

Val's crooked smile was enough to have Scott burst out laughing.

"Yeah, why not? Mr. Lancer, you're coming?"

"No. Go ahead. I'll head over to the hotel and see if anyone has seen Johnny in the last couple of days. Maybe I can rent a couple of rooms for a few hours. We can rest a bit before we start our journey again."

Scott and Val exchanged a worried look. It was apparent to them that Murdoch was having problems with his back yet again and that soon he wouldn't be able to follow.

"That's a good idea. We'll meet you there in a little while then, Sir," Scott answered.

Murdoch went his way while the two younger men crossed the street and headed over to the saloon.

As usual, Val stopped by the batwing doors and peered inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of the saloon. Satisfied that there wasn't anything amiss, he pushed the doors open and went directly to the bar. Scott followed, an amused smile spreading on his face.

How he would have liked to see Johnny and Val in action, back when they were both selling their guns… back when they became friends. In his opinion, this was a story worth telling, but it still wasn't something he had had the opportunity to discuss with either man. The only time he'd tried, he had been rebuffed by his then newly discovered brother.

He remembered the scene very clearly. They had been at Lancer less than six months and were having a beer in one of Green River's saloons on a Saturday night. Scott had asked Johnny about his unlikely friendship with Val. His brother had said "One of these days, when you're old enough, I'll tell you 'The Val and Johnny Story'. But, you'll have to be very nice to me and do everything I want for a whole month." Scott had choked on his beer. He couldn't believe how impudent his brother was and then, he had realized the boy was pulling his leg.

Their conversation had fallen onto other, more interesting subjects, namely the attributes of two of the new girls working in the saloon, and their debate had soon taken each of them into the welcoming arms and beds of the said girls. When they had met again later on, Johnny had told him that one day he would tell him about some of the things that he'd done or had been done to him but, that right now, it was too much to ask. He still needed time to get used to the idea of having a brother and not being on his own anymore. Scott had respected his wish and slowly, the two young men had built their relationship – one based on friendship, trust and loyalty and finally… a deep love that the brothers now shared.

Scott was brought back to reality as he heard Val asking for two cold beers.

In front of them, just as they got to the foot of the mountain, below the pass, was an immense open field with a few trees here and there. Shadow pranced nervously. Johnny could feel his horse's impatience – a horse that was so like Barranca, almost as intelligent as his beloved palomino. The young man tried to restrain the mustang but Shadow had a mind of his own. He was dead set on galloping and galloping he would, no matter what his young two-legged friend thought about it. Finally, Johnny urged him forward and soon, horse and man were enjoying a wild run across the plain. Johnny was experiencing a great feeling of exhilaration. He was free, as free as the wind that just now ripped his hat from his head to have it bounce onto his back.

Shadow was just as happy as he took off to jump over a small gully they had come across. Johnny's heart thumped in his chest when the horse landed gracefully on the other side. He felt as excited as his horse was and was urging the mustang to run.

The horse kept going, faster and faster, until a few miles further Johnny started to reduce his speed. Soon, they would have to stop to eat, drink and rest a bit. The young man glanced at the horizon as he looked for a suitable spot to stop.

Almost an hour later, he found just such a spot. In the distance, he could see what seemed to be a small river, snaking lazily across the plain. He directed Shadow toward it and finally they reached its bank half an hour later. The area was surrounded by lush vegetation and nearby was the beginning of yet another patch of trees leading to the woods he would have to cross to continue his journey.

Johnny gracefully leaped off his horse and proceeded to unsaddle him, placing the saddle, his saddlebags and his bedroll near a stand of trees close by. As soon as this was done, he headed closer to the river. He sat on his haunches and looked at it. From where he was, it wasn't very large but, still, it was majestic. The water was very clear and he could smell its freshness and even peer at the rocks littering the bottom. Shadow followed Johnny closely and pushed his shoulder with his head. The young man smiled. Lying down on his stomach closer to the edge, he splashed some water in his face to cool himself down a bit; he drank and refilled his canteen with fresh water. He got up and took Shadow closer to the bank and let him drink his fill. Once the horse was contended, they both turned away from the river and walked back to the stand of trees.

"I guess we've found just what we needed, Compadre. It's a nice spot to spend some time," Johnny said as he lay down on his back, basking in the sun. "I have an idea," he said, jumping back on his feet mere minutes later and grabbing his extra blanket. He headed once again to the riverbank, followed by Shadow who decidedly didn't want to be left alone.

The dark-haired young man looked around to make sure he was alone and went upstream, still followed by Shadow. The river was making a sharp bend a few yards away from where he had first stopped and he followed. Just after he turned the corner, he saw a small beach a few feet below.

"Come on, Shadow, let's have some fun," he said, as he made for the beach. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. Soon, his boots were off as well as his socks and his pants. Hesitating barely a second, he finally got rid of his cut-off long johns and stood on the beach, stark naked. For a few seconds, he let the sun's rays warm his body. Then, with one look at his horse, he started to run and leaped right into the middle of the water. He yelped as he landed in what was some very cold water.

Shadow looked at his friend and whinnied softly as he ambled along, taking his sweet time and finally stopping just before getting his two front legs into the water. Johnny was still swimming and playing in the water. Once in a while, his head would disappear under the water and he would resurface a little further away, laughing like a child.

A half hour later, it was a very wet ex-gunfighter who climbed back out of the river. Shadow neighed softly as the young man walked past him to where he'd left his clothes. Suddenly, the young horse lay down and started rolling back and forth in the warm sand. By that time, Johnny had taken his extra blanket, unrolled it flat on the ground and was laying on it, to let the sun dry his body. He smiled at his horse's antics and finally pulled his hat onto his eyes, to shield them from the bright light of the sun. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still wet… still naked.

A few minutes later, Johnny was brutally woken up as Shadow trotted near him and shook himself, covering his young friend with particles of sand that clung to his still wet body.

"Damn, Shadow. Now, I'm gonna have to jump in the river again to clean myself. You're a bad boy."

The mustang shook his head while Johnny glared at him, giving him his best Madrid look. But, somehow, it didn't seem to work with the horse as Shadow simply turned his back and headed over to the edge of the water to have another drink. Johnny sighed and went back in the river for a quick dip.

Scott and Val had spent half an hour in the saloon, asking questions of the bartender and a few customers. But, nobody had been able to tell them anything. Disgusted and discouraged, they left and went to the hotel to join Murdoch. Maybe the older man had had better luck.

In front of the hotel, Val stopped abruptly in his tracks.

"Why are you stopping?" Scott asked him as he almost bumped into the man.

"Go check on your father. I'm gonna head over to the sheriff's office and see if he knows anything."

"You know the sheriff here?"

"Yeah, you might say that," Val answered mysteriously as he left Scott standing in front of the hotel porch.

The young man shook his head and went into the hotel. His father was nowhere in sight so he headed over to the reception desk. A young man, wearing a pair of glasses that were too big for him, stood behind the counter and welcomed him with a big smile.

"What can I do for you, Sir?"

"My father was here a little earlier… Murdoch Lancer. Would you mind telling me which rooms he's rented for us?"

"Ah yes, Mr. Lancer. He is well known here, you know. I take it that Johnny Lancer is your brother, then, although you don't look like him at all. That's another very fine young man. Why, he was here not long ago and…"

"Scott, there you are, Son." Murdoch's voice boomed from the top of the stairs.

The young man gave his father a thankful look and hurried over to join him. Murdoch was chuckling as he turned back down the corridor and lead Scott toward their rooms.

"I see you've met young Timothy."

Scott nodded, smiling. "He's a real talker, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is and he's told me a few things about your brother."

"Interesting things, I hope?" answered the younger man as he followed Murdoch into one large bedroom equipped with two beds, one of which he claimed as his own while his father sat on the other one.

"You might say that. Johnny was here a couple of nights ago and he left very early yesterday morning. Young Timothy greeted him upon his arrival but it's young Charlie who saw him leave."

"And, who might this 'young Charlie' be, if I may ask?"

"Ah, Scott, my Son, you will be pleased to know that young Charlie is young Timothy's twin and that he's as much a talker as his brother is."

"Don't tell me he knows where Johnny was heading when he left?" Scott retorted, smiling.

"Exactly. Apparently Johnny has asked Charlie about Los Angeles and stagecoaches."

"Stagecoaches? I would have thought he'd be riding all the way."

True to his word, Val had gone over to the sheriff's office. Opening the door, he peered inside and smiled as he saw Sheriff Browne seemingly busy, shuffling through a pile of wanted posters.

"Howdy, Sheriff," Val said as he closed the door behind him.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 11

**Johnny finished drying himself for the second time. He stared severely at his horse as he put his clothes back on and then spread out his blanket to let it dry under the hot sun.**

**"Come here, Shadow. I have to brush you, unless you want to take a bath, too."**

**The horse turned his back to his friend and slowly walked to the edge of the water. With one last look at the young man, he purposely stepped into the river and went as far away as he dared. He stopped once he reached the middle of the river – this part wasn't as deep as where Johnny had swam earlier but the water was, nonetheless, almost covering the horse's back.**

**Johnny shook his head in amazement. "I could swear that horse understands everything I say," he said aloud to no one but the world around him. **

**The dark-haired young man started to pick up his gear and get ready for the next part of his trip to Los Angeles. He had almost finished when Shadow came back near him and shook himself to get rid of all the excess water covering him – splashing Johnny at the same time. **

**"What the hell is all…" Johnny started to say, as he dropped his saddlebags and turned to face the horse who, once again, shook his heavy mane, sending water everywhere around him but mostly on the young man. **

**"… this," Johnny finished as he looked down at his body covered with water. He finally burst out laughing as he realized he was almost as wet as when he had come out of the river earlier. **

**"You really think you're funny, huh? Well, let me tell you, Mister Shadow, you're lucky it's really hot today. I'm gonna be dry in no time and we'll get going. No more fooling around, young one or this time, I'll really get mad."**

**Johnny had the distinct impression that Shadow was somehow watching the reaction he would have to this latest mischief on his part. He felt lucky to have this wonderful horse with him, a horse who could react to his moods and cheer him up when he needed it. So very like his palomino and the best to have since Barranca wasn't part of this trip. **

**Soon, the two compadres were back on the road, heading for Los Angeles. **

**Sheriff Jeremy Browne lifted his head as he heard both the door close and the slightly sarcastic "Howdy, Sheriff" kind of greeting that followed. A huge smile graced his face when he saw who was leaning on the doorframe.**

**"Crawford! Val Crawford! What the hell are you doing here, my friend?" asked the man.**

**"On my way to Mexico."**

**"What for?"**

**"Trailing Johnny."**

**"Madrid?"**

**"Yeah. You know he isn't selling his gun anymore, don't you?"**

**"Yes. I saw him about 10 days ago. He came to see me and told me about his good fortune. Let me tell you, I'm glad he found his old man. Lancer is a good fellow, a little grumpy at times but good. And that boy looked real happy and at peace with himself, at last."**

**Val smiled at that. He should have known Johnny would have paid a visit to their common friend once he learnt he was working in Bakersfield.**

**"Sit down, Val, and tell me everything. What has this foolish boy got himself into this time? And, more importantly, how can I help?"**

**"Where's Val?" the patriarch asked of Scott, once the young man was lying down comfortably on the bed. **

**"Gone to see the sheriff. Seems they know each other."**

**"Any idea what he wants to discuss with Sheriff Browne."**

**"Oh, you know this sheriff too, Murdoch?"**

**"I've met him a few times. He's a pretty decent man but kind of rough around the edges, if you know what I mean."**

**"Not another Val Crawford!" Scott exclaimed.**

**"I'm afraid so. But with a better taste where clothes are concerned," Murdoch continued, suddenly laughing as he started to imagine the two blunt sheriffs together.**

**Scott smiled and, putting one arm under his head, stifled a yawn. **

**"Val hasn't told me what he wanted to discuss with the sheriff. I guess he will tell us in due time," the young man responded. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll take a nap while we wait for him. Maybe you should do the same. I have a feeling that we'll be back on the road very soon." **

**The older man nodded his ascent and lay down on his own bed as well. Soon, the two were asleep. **

**Val was still sitting in the sheriff's office, drinking a cup of a coffee. If Johnny thought the coffee he, Val, made was bad, perhaps he should try Browne's… **

**"And our young friend has left, without telling anybody?"**

**"Yep."**

**"I don't like this, Val. You're right, I think he's heading directly into a trap. Have you told the Lancers of your suspicions?"**

**"Not exactly, but they know it's dangerous for him out there. Thing is, it's not the Castillos' I'm wary of. They wouldn't hurt him. It's more Castaneda and José Eduardo Lopez." **

**"I see. I've heard of Castaneda and I've bumped into some problems with Lopez the last time I was down in Mexico. The man sure loathes gringos and half-breeds, particularly blue-eyed ones."**

**"Meaning the likes of Johnny?" Val snorted, disgustedly. **

**"Yeah. He still talks about getting his revenge. I heard tell he's not gonna spare any efforts to get to the boy. There are rumours that he's even ready to cross the border in order to get to him. Anyway, you know that I still work for the government as a special agent, don't you?"**

**"I know. What does it have to do with Lopez?"**

**"Nothing and everything. About two years ago, the granddaughter of the Governor of Texas was kidnapped and brutally murdered by a young half-breed gunhawk. I was asked to track down the murderer and bring him back to face justice in Texas. All the witnesses I've questioned were unanimous about the identity of the young man. Their description fitted one man we both know well – Madrid."**

** "But, two years ago, Johnny was…"**

**"Facing a firing squad led by Lopez. I know all that, my friend. I couldn't believe the boy I once knew would have committed such a heinous crime. So I made some inquiries along the border and found out about our Johnny's involvement in that little Mexican revolution, his arrest, the death sentence he faced and his subsequent timely rescue. In my mind, all that cleared him of the murder charge. I went back to Texas and told the Governor about that. Told him I had a pretty good idea of who it was, too. And believe me, I had a hard time convincing him."**

**"Jesus," the sheriff said after taking a long breath, "in order to persuade him, I ended up telling the Governor how I met this gunfighter whose reputation was starting to grow bigger than he was. How this stunningly young boy had saved my butt for no other reason that he thought the situation I found myself in wasn't fair. How I became friends with none other than the already notorious Johnny Madrid – a 17-year-old kid who didn't want the hand he had been dealt but didn't know how to get away from it. A kid who thought he wasn't worth much to anyone but the Devil."**

**Browne sprang up from his chair and paced back and forth, highly agitated. He stopped in front of Val, his face red from the rage he still felt inside, his hands shaking.**

**"And it made me mad to see that this… this son of a bitch was dirtying my friend's name. I swore I would catch the little bastard because I was pretty sure who he was."**

**"Don't tell me… I think I know who'd be crazy enough to dare to assume our boy's identity."**

**Browne returned behind his desk and sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes briefly and took a sip of his now cold coffee, waiting for Val to speak his mind while trying to regain his composure. Even after two years, he wanted to strangle the man. **

**"Ortega, Juan Ortega. Young wannabe gunfighter turned outlaw who bears an uncanny resemblance to our friend. Am I right?"**

**The sheriff nodded in agreement.**

**"You're dead on. Ortega, that same Ortega who used to be a friend of Johnny, has turned bad, real bad. From stealing food because he was hungry to robbing banks and stagecoaches, he has now switched to killing. He kills on this side of the border and high tails right back to Mexico. He's been real careful not to stray on the wrong side of the fence down there although I've heard he's done some killings there, recently. But in Texas, let me tell you, my friend, he has left a pretty bloody trail and mostly by using Johnny's name."**

**"Did you eventually catch him?"**

**"Almost. For some unknown reason, Lopez seems to be protecting him and that's something I can't really understand. After all, it is common knowledge that Johnny's 'El Capitán' hates half-breeds. I ran into him and almost didn't make it back. Particularly when he recognized me as the same man with whom Johnny had sided against him one time too many."**

**"Johnny sure knows how to get under people's skin, huh? He's wormed his way into your heart, same as he did with me," Val said, chuckling.**

**"Yeah, he did," answered the sheriff, smiling broadly. "So, how do you want me to help?"**

**"I'm not sure yet. I have a feeling he will run into trouble. I don't know what the link is between the Castillos, Lopez and Castaneda but I'm sure there is something. Do you think you could come with us?"**

**"Right now, no! But I can meet you someplace later on. There's a couple of things I have to take care of and then I can get my deputy to fill in for me."**

**"Good. Let's get together with the Lancers and we'll figure something."**

**Johnny and Shadow had traveled through the forest and were halfway to Los Angeles. They had rested whenever they felt the need and now the young man figured that within three to four more hours of riding they would reach their destination – a final one for Shadow as Johnny intended to leave him there to continue his journey on a coach to get to San Diego. **

**In a way, he felt sad about leaving the horse. He had had a very fine time with Shadow, fooling around and talking to him about things that happened to a small dark-haired would-be gunfighter back when he was trying to survive in those accursed border towns – sad things but also funny ones. But, in all honesty, he couldn't continue on this particular trip with this horse. He wouldn't have done it with Barranca and Shadow was his next favourite horse at Lancer, so he deserved the same kind of care his palomino would get from him under the same circumstances. He promised himself to make some arrangements so the horse would be returned to the ranch. **

**Unknowingly, he started to slow down the pace of his horse as he tried to find a way to postpone their separation. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing anymore by going back to Mexico. The further he went away from Lancer, the more he had a bad feeling. But, it could also be because he was really getting soft, really getting used to his new life and more to the point, enjoying the presence of his family. **

**He chuckled at the thought and urged Shadow to go a little faster. No sense further delaying their separation. Even though he had second thoughts, he knew, deep down, he was doing what his honour bid him to do. **

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 12

**The two lawmen went over to the hotel. While Val managed to get the numbers of those rooms Murdoch had rented for the three of them, Sheriff Browne sat on one of the chairs installed along the wall below the stairway.**

**Val climbed the stairs leading to the rooms located on the second floor two by two. He never noticed the paintings hung on the wall beside those well-polished stairs nor those that were perfectly aligned on the walls of either side of the corridor. Instead, he hurriedly walked to the end of the passageway and knocked on the door of room 12.**

**Inside the room, Scott woke up with a start. For a brief moment, he didn't quite know where he was. He realized someone was knocking with insistence on the door.**

**"Coming, coming," he said as he got up from the bed and went to open the door, still half asleep.**

**"Oh! It's you, Val. Come in."**

**"Sheriff Browne is downstairs."**

**"And?"**

**"We've got things to discuss. You wanna do this here or in front of a good coffee someplace?"**

**"Here," Murdoch said, as he opened his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's more appropriate for what I sense is going to be some sort of private conversation."**

**"I'll get him, along with a pot of strong coffee and some biscuits," Val said.**

**Murdoch got up and went to the washstand where he splashed some water on his face to try to chase away the last remnants of his siesta. His back was hurting, just as it always did whenever he stayed in the same position for too long. He wondered, not for the first time, if running after his younger son was the sensible thing for him to do. But, considering the danger the boy might be heading into, he knew he couldn't and wouldn't have done any differently. Certainly not now when they seemed to have gotten over their differences and finally established a strong relationship.**

**"Scott, go into Val's room and bring two more chairs," he asked his son, turning away from the washstand. **

**The young man hurried over to the adjoining door leading to Val's room and opened it. Shortly after, he came back with the two requested chairs and placed them around the table with the other two already there. And none too soon as they heard Val's voice and that of a stranger responding to him.**

**Within a couple of minutes, the two lawmen entered the room and closed the door behind them. Val was carrying a tray on which stood a coffee pot and four cups while Browne had another tray filled with biscuits and fresh fruits. The two men deposited their respective trays onto the tabletop and turned to face Murdoch and Scott.**

**"Jeremy, you already know Mr. Lancer," Val said, pointing his left hand to Murdoch. This here is Scott Lancer, his older son."**

**"Mr. Lancer," Browne said, extending his hand and shaking Murdoch's and then Scott's. "Nice to meet you, although I'm sure you would have preferred we met under better circumstances." **

**Murdoch and Scott both acknowledged Browne's words with a nod of their heads. **

**"Please, sit down, Sheriff," Scott said. "You too, Val."**

**The four men sat around the table. As Scott poured each a cup of strong, hot coffee, he asked, "So? What do we need to talk about?"**

**"Your brother," Val responded. "Sheriff Browne is willing to help us find him."**

**"On what grounds, if I may ask?" Murdoch inquired, stirring his coffee.**

**Browne took a sip from his cup before answering.**

**"Because Johnny Madrid is my friend."**

**"It's not Madrid," quipped Scott, suddenly angry, "it's Lancer, Johnny Lancer." **

**Browne looked at him sympathetically. "I know," he said gently, "but to me, he is Johnny Madrid, a young man always ready to help those in need. That's how I met him the first time, a teenager with a very developed sense of what was honourable and what was not. So, if you don't mind, I will continue to call your brother 'Madrid'," he continued with a smile, looking directly into Scott's eyes and then, Murdoch's.**

**"I've known your son for quite a number of years, Mr. Lancer. And believe me, if I had known you were his father, I would have taken him back to you even if it had meant hog-tying him to his horse." **

**Murdoch took a deep breath. "Exactly how long have you known him?"**

**"Oh, about five or six years, on and off. I won't go into the particulars of our story, it would be too long, but I do remember the day I met him," he said laughing. "It's kinda hard to forget that scrawny seventeen year old or so kid who stood by my side against a bunch of Mexican thugs ready to tear me apart. Let's say that without him, I wouldn't be here today. So, if I can do anything to help, I will." **

**Johnny rode in the small town of Los Angeles shortly after five o'clock that afternoon. He had come here a couple of times when drifting from job to job but had never stayed long. This time, he figured he wouldn't stay long either. **

**His first move was to find a place where he could leave Shadow, make arrangements for him to be sent back to Lancer as quickly as possible and say his farewells to this horse he loved almost as much as he loved Barranca. He felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed but shook his head – it had to be done. He couldn't take the horse with him. Not only because of what they might find down in Mexico, but also because the journey would be very long and arduous and he didn't want to impose that on his horse. And thus, it was with a great sadness that he finally left his horse in the livery adjacent to the stage depot after making those arrangements he needed to make and having a last talk with him. **

**Entering the stage depot next, he went directly to the information counter. Nobody was attending the counter so he tapped his fingers on the hard wood with impatience and then noticed the small bell standing on the right side of the counter, just a few inches away from his restless fingers. With a mischievous smile, he tapped on it a few times and waited, and waited. He was about to tap again when the door at the back of the room opened to make way to what Johnny thought was the most beautiful thing he had seen for quite a long time. He automatically took his hat off and passed his right hand through his hair, in a vain attempt to smooth his unruly hair.**

**He looked at the apparition; his mouth slightly open, as a young Mexican girl, dressed in a lovely white blouse embroidered with burgundy flowers and a matching burgundy skirt that did nothing to hide her features, stopped right behind the counter. She was so tiny that he realized she had to climb on a step so that she would be at the right height to face him without having to raise her head to look at him.**

**Johnny found himself looking into a pair of beautiful green eyes. For a moment, he lost himself in their depths. Then, he examined her more closely. Her face was oval and two very long and thick dark brown braids with reddish highlights hung on each side of her face. She looked at him, smiling, and she reminded him of a cat. Her complexion was tanned but not as dark as most of the Mexicans, in fact it was even lighter than his own. He realized with a start that just like him, her blood was mixed. **

**"Can I help you, Sir," she said, in an English that was perfect and with no more than a slight trace of an accent. **

**"Huh, yeah! I mean, yes! When is the next stage to San Diego and what is your name?" **

**She looked at the young cowboy in front of her and burst out laughing. He had very blue eyes, black hair that was slightly curled and a golden complexion. The way he was dressed, in a dark brown jacket that stopped at the waist opening on a faded embroidered red shirt and a pair of brown pants with silver conchos on each side, identified him as a Mexican, or rather a half-Mexican, considering his blue eyes.**

**"Are you always as direct as this?"**

**Johnny felt himself blushing slightly. He was lucky his complexion was naturally tanned because if it hadn't been, she would have seen his embarrassment right away. He gave her that charming smile of his. **

**"Usually, no! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that… It sort of escaped my lips."**

**"My name is Tierra," she finally answered his second question. "And the next stage is tomorrow at three o'clock. You have just missed the last one by one day." **

**Upon seeing the young man's discomfiture showing so plainly on his face, she burst out laughing again. **

**"What's your name?" she asked after regaining her composure.**

**"Johnny. Johnny Lancer," he answered, the fact he was unable to hide his feeling annoying him immensely. **

**"Well, Johnny Lancer, I'm about to close down for the night. Do you want to buy your ticket now or wait until tomorrow afternoon?"**

**"I'll get it now, if you don't mind," he answered, taking a few dollars out of his jacket's pocket. "How long does it take to get to San Diego?"**

**"About two days."**

**"Thanks."**

**Johnny put the ticket she handed over to him in his pocket and turned to leave the stage depot. Outside, he put his hat back on his head and pushed it firmly in place. He looked around and was about to step off the boardwalk when he felt a presence near him. He didn't have to turn to know it was the girl.**

**"What will you do until tomorrow?"**

**"Oh, I guess I'll book a room in a hotel and have a meal in a restaurant. And maybe go to the saloon and play a couple of hands of poker."**

**"Well, if you're looking for a real good place to eat, I know just the right place."**

**Johnny looked at her and smiled, forgetting his earlier annoyance. "And I'm almost ready to bet you also know about a good place where I may rent a room, am I right?"**

**"As a matter of fact, yes, I do," she answered, looking up to meet his laughing eyes. "My father owns a small hotel, just down the main road."**

**"And who owns the stage depot?"**

**"My uncle. I was just helping him today."**

**The young man took the time to really have a good look at the girl in front of him. She was, he reckoned, no more than 17 or 18 years old. She was petite but less than he had first thought, her head was up to his breast. Her white and burgundy outfit was just perfect for her colouring and once again, he lost himself in the depth of her eyes. The world surrounding him didn't exist anymore as Tierra led Johnny Lancer down the street. **

**The Lancers, Val and Jeremy Browne had talked for a few hours, setting up plans and back up plans, deciding upon where Browne would join with them again and how they would communicate until he reached them. Then, right after they finished their supper, which they took in the hotel room so as to be able to keep going with their discussion, the four men left the hotel and headed over to the livery. **

**Scott and Val had suggested to Murdoch to spend the night in Bakersfield but the older man had stubbornly refused, arguing with them that they had lost enough time as it was. So, the three men retrieved their horses, saddled them and were on their way in no time. **

**Sheriff Browne looked at their quickly retreating backs for a few minutes and finally went back to his office. He sat down at his desk and closed his eyes, thinking about a time, many years ago, when he had first met the boy who would end up occupying such an important place in his heart.**

**The streets were busy even though it was late at night. How had he, Jeremy Browne, former bounty hunter now acting as a special agent of the American government, ended up in this accursed dingy village on the Mexican side of the border? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that he was tired, in need of a good bath, a good drink, a good meal and good company – in whichever order. He wasn't too particular anymore and he was fed up. Why the hell had he ever accepted this job? **

**As he made his way to the bigger of the two cantinas he could see in the miserable village of San Cristobal, he noticed that the establishment was almost in ruins. One wing was crumbling and the other was barely standing. One look at it was enough to make him change his mind; there was no way he would rent a room in this rat-infested place. He turned his back to the Hotel Del Paraíso, as it was called, snorting in disgust, and went in the direction of the other smaller cantina, which looked just slightly better. **

**He paused by the batwing doors and peered inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of the place. He felt himself being pushed and was forced to enter, followed by four or five loud-speaking Mexicans looking for a good time. He made his way to the bar and asked for a cold beer, paid for it and went to sit at a small table near the far end of the place, well away from the commotion taking place at the front as more people rushed in. **

**That's when he saw his quarry. A couple of tables away sat Pedro Santiago, the man he had been trailing for the past twelve days. And with him were five men who looked as mean as Santiago did. Jeremy pulled his hat lower on his eyes, pondering what he could do. Here he was, a mere few feet away from the man he was pursuing but outnumbered six to one. He had a warrant for the man, but here, in Mexico, it wasn't worth much, unless he enlisted help from the local law. On his own, however, there was nothing he could do. **

**As he was about to get up and go look for the said local law, another group of men came in and walked right up to where Santiago was. Browne resumed his seat and watched. These three men were wearing grey uniforms and he realized they were the local militia, the Rurales as they were called. **

**A heated discussion ensued between Santiago and the man who seemed to be in charge of the group of Rurales but, so far, this man didn't seem intent on arresting the outlaw. Jeremy wasn't very familiar with Spanish but he heard the word gringo and a few of the men sitting at the table started to look in his direction. He suddenly realized he was the only white man around. **

**By then, Santiago had stopped talking to the captain of the Rurales and had started looking at him curiously. Jeremy tried to look as unobtrusive as possible and started to get up with the intention of moving out of the cantina and getting away from what he now considered a very dangerous place for him to be. **

**"Not so fast, Gringo." Santiago said, as he also got up and approached Jeremy. "You're the man that has been sent after me, are you not?"**

**"And what if I am?"**

**"Well, you're not welcome here, Señor Gringo. If you know what is good for you, maybe you should go back to where you came from. Pronto!"**

**"And what if I don't?" As soon as the words slipped from his tongue, Jeremy cursed himself. What the hell was he thinking? There he was, alone with a bunch of Mexicans ready to tear him apart. Why couldn't he have simply left the place without making any big deal out of it?**

**"If you do not, Señor, you will find yourself in great need of making your peace with Dios," responded the captain of the Rurales, speaking for the first time since Santiago had taken it upon himself to confront the American. **

**Jeremy looked at them as both were now standing elbow to elbow, facing him. A look of pure disgust passed in his green eyes.**

**"Is this how the law works here? Hand in hand with miscreants such as this man," he said, pointing at Santiago.**

**"You will not speak of my brother in law in those terms, Gringo. Now, get the hell out of here before I lose my patience with you. And believe me, if you do not, you will regret it."**

**Jeremy smiled. "I am leaving," he said, "but you haven't seen the last of me. I will come back for this jackal."**

**And he had left the cantina; aware he could very well end up with a knife between his shoulder blades or a bullet in the back of his head. He made it to the dirty street and went back to the livery to retrieve his horse. He felt eyes following his every move and he knew he would be followed by whomever Santiago and the captain would send after him. But, for now, he would leave without making any more fuss about Santiago. He would bide his time now that he knew where the man was. **

**He vaulted on the back of his horse and rode out of town, still feeling eyes on his back as he did so. This feeling made him uncomfortable but there was nothing he could do about it. It was better for him to find a place to hole up and think about his next move. **

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 13

**Jeremy slowly rode out of San Cristobal, heading North, all the while wondering whether or not those who were following him would shoot him off his horse as soon as he would be far enough from the village. Soon, though, he stopped. He desperately needed to sleep for a few hours. He was dead tired and still had not had anything to eat. In fact, aside from the not so cold beer he had drunk in the cantina, he had had nothing of what he had planned on having and he was seriously pissed off. **

**The moon was full and stood high in the sky. Its brightness lit the way and in the distance, a couple of miles away, he discerned an outcropping of rocks toward which he directed his horse. He turned to look behind him and although he saw nothing but a dusty road flanked by granite rocks and boulders of different sizes on both sides, he knew he was still being trailed. Well, if they meant to kill him, he would give them a hard time. **

**Once he reached his destination, he dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby bush. He then gathered dried twigs and branches to start a fire. It was something that wasn't very hard to find in this accursed place where everything seemed to be drying in no time. He built a small fire, just big enough to provide some heat during the rest of the night. Horse and rider were very close to the desert and while days tended to be extremely hot, nights could be rather cold. He still felt he was being watched although he had not heard any noise. There was no way he could lay down and try to sleep knowing that. So, he made a decision, one he hoped wouldn't cost him his life.**

**"I know there's someone out there. Why don't you come out and share my fire." His voice rang loud and clear through the silence of the night.**

**He heard a chuckle, followed immediately by a muffled laughter, which told him he had at least two visitors. He smiled as he discreetly removed his gun from his holster and thumbed back the safety. **

**"I wouldn't do that," a soft voice said. "We do not intend to hurt you, or else you would already have met your maker."**

**The man who had just spoken emerged from behind the boulders on his left. Slowly, he made his way next to the fire and sat down across from him. A second man who stayed slightly behind him, followed shortly afterwards. Jeremy saw with alarm that they were wearing their guns low on their thighs and that, furthermore, both looked to be very young. **

**"You were very brave, Gringo," the first young man said. "Brave, but foolish."**

**"How so?"**

**"You stood against El Capitán Lopez and his cuñado – the husband of his sister."**

**"And?"**

**"That is not a good thing. In fact, it could very easily get you killed."**

**Jeremy looked at the young man who was now holding his hands over the fire, turning them this way and that way, all the while keeping them well away from his gun, as if he couldn't care less. **

**"And I supposed you two have been sent to carry that sentence?"**

**The second young man chuckled.**

**"It is not our way, Señor," he said as he also sat besides the first one.**

**The light from the fire and the full moon fell on their faces as they moved a little and Jeremy saw that he was looking at twins or brothers extremely close in age. **

**"Then, why are you following me?"**

**"We don't like El Capitán," answered the first one as if this in itself was enough of a reason. And he smiled, a smile that reached his eyes and seemed to light up the little camp. **

**Jeremy stared at him, speechless for a moment. He had felt something very powerful emanating from this very young man and he knew without a doubt he could trust him. He smiled back.**

**"Is it safe to sleep here?"**

**"For tonight, yes. But tomorrow, we will need to leave quickly."**

**"Do you mean you intend to 'escort' me to the border?"**

**"More or less. Go to sleep, Señor Gringo, you look done in. Juan here will keep first watch and I will take the second. You will rest all night. Tomorrow, we will talk."**

**There was an air of finality in the words spoken, although the young man had kept his voice very soft. Jeremy complied. He didn't know why, but he sensed he would be safe that night with the two young Mexicans. He wrapped his blanket around his body and lay down on his bedroll. He was so tired that in a matter of minutes he was fast asleep. **

**Early the next morning, Jeremy woke to the smell of strong coffee and meat being cooked over the fire. He rubbed his eyes and looked around him, disoriented for a moment, until he remembered his visitors from the night before.**

**The two of them were sitting by the fire, on opposite sides, watching the meat being cooked on a stick they were holding over the fire. They were giggling, acting like two kids having fun together. Jeremy watched them for a little while and finally pushed off the blanket covering him. Both young men turned to face him.**

**"Ah! Señor Gringo is awake, at last!" said the one with the ready smile. "Want some coffee?"**

**"You made it?"**

**"Si, and it is good, or so I have been told," the young man answered, laughing as he handed him a cup while the other one continued to hold the stick over the fire.**

**"Who are you?" Jeremy asked, looking in turn at the two young men. Last night, he had thought they were twins. But today, in broad daylight, he could see that although they were very alike, they were most likely a couple of years apart. Both were less than twenty years old. And the one that appeared to be the youngest was the one with the dazzling smile and the very soft voice. His eyes were an incredible shade of blue, identifying him as a being of mixed-blood. Both were, as a matter of fact, as Jeremy also noticed the eyes of the other one – blue also but not the same shade. And he noticed, too, that the youngest one was thin, too thin, as if he had missed more than a few meals in his life. **

**"This here is Juan Ortega but everybody calls him Ortega, and I am Johnny."**

**"Just Johnny?" inquired Jeremy.**

**Johnny smiled and Ortega laughed.**

**"Mi Amigo, he is muy importante," Ortega said, unconsciously reverting to Spanish. "El es el famoso Johnny Madrid."**

**"What?" Jeremy said, only understanding the name, as his command of the Spanish language was rather poor.**

**Johnny smiled again and shook his head.**

**"Ortega is a fool. I am not that famous."**

**"You are Johnny Madrid? But, I thought… You're… just a kid!"**

**"I am not a kid, haven't been one for a long time, Señor Gringo," Johnny answered, his eyes flashing dangerously.**

**"You're not brothers then?"**

**Ortega laughed again. "No. We are amigos."**

**"Juan and me, well, we've been friends for years. We lost sight of each other for a while and have just been reunited again. So, we ride together."**

**Jeremy nodded, carefully sipping the hot brew, knowing instinctively that he would not learn anything more on the subject. Ortega handed him a plate filled with some white meat. He took a look at it and raised his eyes only to find Johnny and Juan giggling once again, helplessly. He couldn't help but smile at their antics. Right now, the two young gunfighters looked like mischievous children.**

**"What is it?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.**

**"Rattlesnake," Juan and Johnny responded together, which sent them giggling even more.**

**"Rattlesnake?"**

**"Si. Try it. It is good. Tastes a bit like chicken or frog legs," Johnny said, as he tried desperately to stop laughing. **

**Jeremy took a tentative bite and found, to his amazement, that it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He was hungry, more than hungry and he devoured the contents of his plate within a few minutes. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the two youngsters were doing the same, as if they, too, had not had any food lately. Then, Ortega gathered the plates and went to the nearby stream to wash them.**

**"We should get ready, Señor Gringo," Johnny said, getting up. **

**"You think they will come after me?"**

**"Si, they will. You have threatened them to come back for Santiago and they can't let you do that."**

**"And why is that?"**

**"They have something going, something big. They can't risk you taking Santiago back with you."**

**"And where does your interest lie? Why are you willing to help me getting out of this mess I've put myself in?"**

**"I told you. I don't like El Capitán and I intend to cross him," Johnny answered, his eyes becoming hard. So hard that Jeremy had to look away. He was not facing a kid anymore, but a man well aware of the dangers of life, a man who had nothing to lose.**

**Within fifteen minutes, the three men were ready. Johnny spoke to Ortega in Spanish and the young man took the lead, with the American in the middle and Johnny closing the line. **

**Jeremy knew he ought to be wary of the two boys even though he had felt safe the night before. After all, they might not be who they claimed they were. He had heard about Johnny Madrid, knew the gunfighter was young but he never figured him to be less than twenty. And that's what he appeared to be. This boy claiming to be Johnny Madrid couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen. And it looked like he was the leader, as Ortega seemed to defer to him in all things. He wondered what could possibly bring two good-looking young boys – because that's what they were really, just boys – to lead a life that would get them killed before they reached their twentieth birthday. **

**They rode silently for the most part of the next hour, not really seeing the landscape surrounding them. There wasn't much to see anyway as they were crossing a patch of land that was very dry with only a few Saguaros here and there. Then, Johnny moved his horse alongside Jeremy's and walked at the same pace.**

**"Fifteen to twenty more minutes and we will reach the border. That's where they will attack," he said, casually.**

**Jeremy looked at the boy, trying to figure out if he was joking. But, the boy's face was so damn serious. Gone was the mischievous light he had seen earlier in those blue eyes of his, gone was the ready smile. Right now, perched on a small pinto riding alongside him, was Johnny Madrid, the gunfighter. That very same Johnny Madrid who had already started to get himself a reputation on the American side of the border. And Jeremy wasn't sure anymore… He had heard tell Madrid was a mean bastard and a cold-blooded killer. But how could a mere boy be so heartless? Something didn't add up and he aimed to find out what it was that was niggling him so much about Madrid. **

**"You're sure?"**

**"Si. Unfortunately, I know El Capitán's way."**

**"He's waiting for us, then. Over there, I suppose?" Jeremy said, pointing to the road leading to the little town he could see in the distance. "And you're taking me right there?"**

**Johnny nodded.**

**Jeremy shook his head angrily. "Maybe I shouldn't have trusted you."**

**"Is that what you think of me?" answered Johnny, his eyes flashing dangerously once again.**

**"I don't know what to think of you. Maybe you're working for your El Capitán, as you call him or for yourself. Who knows?"**

**"Señor Gringo, I am no liar. We've got to go through Sonoita to get to the other side."**

**"There's no other way?"**

**"Yes, but it's dangerous. Very dangerous."**

**"How so? What could be more dangerous than knowingly stepping into a viper's nest?"**

**"Crossing the Sonora Desert without being properly equipped and being followed by a bunch of cutthroats who will take great pleasure in making a gringo such as yourself suffer."**

**"Are you serious?"**

**The younger man nodded. He proceeded to explain to Jeremy the dangers that lay ahead in that particularly treacherous desert. And what Santiago and his men might to do him if they caught him. **

**Jeremy briefly wondered how the boy knew all that and realized that maybe Johnny had ridden with these men before. He also figured he didn't really have any other choice than to trust the boy. After all, he was Mexican – well, part Mexican – and knew the place. He stopped his horse and waited for Johnny do to the same. **

**"Can I really trust you, Johnny?" he asked, fixing his green eyes onto the blue eyes of the young gunfighter.**

**Johnny simply looked at him without answering, his eyes boring into Jeremy's own. The American saw the sincerity in the blue depths of the boy's eyes and nodded.**

**"Well, so be it then. Let's go, Señor Pistolero," he finally uttered, bowing exaggeratedly to the boy. **

**Johnny's eyes widened in surprise and he started to laugh. He laughed so hard that he had to dismount, for fear of having his horse bolt, and hold his ribs while tears ran down freely on his cheeks.**

**"You, Señor Gringo, are something," he managed to say before finally getting his countenance back. "I doubt I would ever have the heart to kill you. You make me laugh too much."**

**"By the way, my name is Jeremy Browne."**

**"To me, you will always be Señor Gringo," Johnny retorted, jumping back lightly onto the pinto's back. "If you hire me, I'll protect you."**

**"And if I don't?"**

**"I'll protect you anyway." And with that, Johnny spurred his mount, soon followed by Jeremy who felt he had a chance to get out of this peculiar situation with everything he had been gifted with at birth. **

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 14

**The two men finally joined Ortega who was riding in front of them, unaware of the conversation that had taken place between his friend and Jeremy. And, by the time they entered the small town, it was Johnny who was leading the way. **

**Jeremy noticed the care the young gunfighter put into checking his surroundings, the way his eyes darted left and right, noting everything along the way, without seemingly doing so. And he noticed the calmness that seemed to descend upon the boy as he slowly rode into the main street of the dirty little town – if the place could be called a town. To him, it looked more like a village, albeit bigger than San Cristobal, but certainly not what he would call a town. **

**They rode until they reached a medium-sized white adobe construction, housing what seemed to be both the general store and the gunsmith shop. Johnny stopped in front of it and dismounted gracefully, turning to face his two companions. **

**"Ortega, you keep watch and water the horses. I'll go inside with Señor Gringo. We'll need a few supplies for our little trip across the border and beyond."**

**Jeremy also dismounted and followed Johnny inside the establishment as he was told to do, surprised at himself for following the boy's lead so easily. What awaited him inside surprised him. By the time he had closed the door, he saw Johnny being surrounded by two lovely Mexican girls of no more than eighteen years of age. The girls, dressed exactly alike and looking also like mirror images, were talking to the boy both at the same time and were pushing him towards an older woman he figured to be their mother. Johnny was trying to disengage himself but as soon as he got free, the Mexican matron enclosed him in her arms and hugged him fiercely, almost choking him to death. **

**"Juanito, mi chico. Como esta?" the woman said. "You have not come to see your Mamacitá in a long while, mi hijo. I ought to tan your backside."**

**Johnny bowed his head, blushing furiously, while Jeremy had to hide a smile. He was getting to see a side of the famous Johnny Madrid that very few people had seen, he was sure of that. **

**"Ah! Mamacitá, I was busy. You know I cannot stay away from you and your good cooking for long."**

**"Speaking of food, have you looked at yourself? You're too thin. You need to put some meat onto those bones of yours."**

**"I know, I know. Tell you what, Mamacitá. I'll come as soon as I can and then, you can feed me as much as you like. But right now, I need to see Roberto."**

**The woman turned her head slightly, without releasing her hold on Johnny and yelled, "Roberto, customers."**

**Jeremy laughed inwardly. The boy sure seemed to have a way with women, young and old. He could see, from the corner of his eyes, that the two young girls were just waiting for the older woman to step aside so that each could put their hands on the youngster again. The boy was definitely a charmer, as young as he still was. Give him a few more years, and he would break a legion of hearts – that is, if he managed to stay alive in that harsh world he was living in. **

**A plump bald man wearing spectacles emerged from the back of the store. As soon as he saw who his customers were, a huge smile graced his lips.**

**"Juanito, what can I do for you and your gringo friend?" he asked, indicating Jeremy with a motion of his left hand.**

**"Holà, Roberto. I need ammunition, lots of it." Johnny said, finally disengaging himself from the matron. "You go, Mamacitá. I'll come as soon as I can," he whispered into her ear but loud enough so that Jeremy, who was by now standing very near the boy, could hear. And while the woman left with the two girls, Johnny turned his attention back to Roberto who was examining Johnny gravely.**

**"No problem. I got plenty. Need a gun, too?"**

**Johnny smiled and shook his head as he patted his jacket. Roberto turned to face Jeremy. **

**"And you?"**

**"No, thank you. I have my gun."**

**"It is always good to have an extra gun, Señor. Particularly if you are riding with my young friend here," Roberto insisted. "Juanito always has an extra gun or two. I have some very nice ones. You want to see?"**

**Jeremy pondered the question a few seconds and nodded. "Show me what you have. I might let myself be tempted."**

**"You won't regret it, Señor Gringo. Roberto has the best guns around. Take your time, I'll check on Ortega," Johnny said. **

**Jeremy didn't need to be told twice, he was already absorbed in the choosing of another gun. One look only and he disregarded all the guns Roberto showed him, shaking his head in disgust. None were worth the money they would cost. **

**"Is that all you have to show me, Amigo?" he asked the man, looking him directly in the eyes. **

**Roberto smacked his lips in appreciation. "I see I have a connoisseur, Señor. I had to make sure, you see. Come with me in the back store. I keep my best guns there."**

**Jeremy looked back at the front door, where Johnny had disappeared a couple of minutes ago, clearly uncomfortable.**

**"Don't worry. The niño, he knows how to take care of himself. He trusts you, so I will also trust you and I will show you my best merchandise."**

**"He trusts me? How do you know he does?"**

**"He wouldn't have brought you here, if it were not the case. Come."**

**Jeremy had the strange impression that Roberto wasn't only a general store owner or an ordinary gunsmith. He stepped in the back store and followed Roberto through yet another door hidden from the view at the very back of the room. A few candelabras lit the way to a short stairway, which in turn lead to another door. Once that door was opened, he found himself in the centre of a small room filled with a vast array of guns, carbines and rifles and boxes of ammunition for them. Less than ten minutes after, Johnny joined them and leaned comfortably on one of the counters, chewing thoughtfully at his hat's strings. **

**"You made your choice, Señor Gringo?"**

**"Give me a minute Johnny. This is really impressive. Where do these all come from?"**

**"It might be better not to ask too many questions. It's more healthy," Roberto said, in an English suddenly much more fluent with hardly more than a slight Mexican accent.**

**"Am I right if I say these guns have been smuggled here?"**

**Johnny nodded in agreement after exchanging a look with Roberto. "That's part of what El Capitán and Santiago do. And this is one of the shipments I stole from them."**

**"You what?"**

**"You heard. I told you they're working on something big. And I'm planning to create problems for them. Well, I'm not alone in this and I'm not in charge but I try to help in any way I can. I'll tell you more later, if we get the chance. Right now, we must hurry."**

**"They're there?" Jeremy asked, surprised that Johnny had disclosed so much.**

**"They weren't just a few minutes ago, but they will be soon. We better get ready. Roberto, can I get a few boxes of ammunition?"**

**"Yes. You know where they are. Take whatever you need. Who is after you this time?"**

**"El Capitán and a few others. They're not after me, they're after him," Johnny responded, laughing lightly. "He hired me."**

**"I haven't hi…"**

**"And he's gonna pay for the ammunition," Johnny continued, with a wink directed at Roberto.**

**Jeremy couldn't believe how impudent the boy was as he took some money out of his jacket and put it on the counter. "Will this suffice?" he said, shaking his head and half closing his eyes in exasperation.**

**Roberto took the money and pushed it back toward him. "It's free, at least for this time around. Now, get going. Things may start to get rough. And Johnny, you watch your back. I would hate to have to bury you."**

**Johnny grabbed Roberto's forearm and squeezed it with his two hands. And then he turned and made his way to the door, which he had carefully closed when he had come in. Climbing the stairs, he pushed the other door open, and making sure Jeremy was following him, crossed the anteroom and then the store itself to finally step out, squinting his eyes at the bright sunlight that greeted him outside.**

**As soon as they came out of the general store, Ortega showed them the street with a movement of his head. Johnny stopped in his tracks and spoke to Jeremy under his breath.**

**"Mierda! I thought we would have time to get out of town."**

**"What do you mean?"**

**"They're here," he answered, showing Jeremy four men who were now stepping away from the boardwalk in front of the cantina, a few hundred yards away from them. "Better get ready, Señor Gringo. Bullets are gonna fly pretty soon."**

**"Johnny, this isn't your fight. Go away while you can."**

**"No, you're wrong. As soon as I sided with you, it became my fight," the boy answered, his voice tight. "I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with these men, unless you want to die here. You see, they're not alone… others are hidden."**

**"In that case, let's get ready, my friend," Jeremy answered, taking out his gun from his holster and checking it to make sure it was fully loaded.**

**Johnny grinned and did the same while Ortega quietly untied their horses and moved away from the store with them in tow. He left the three horses loosely tied to the hitching rail in front of a house with the front shutters and door painted lilac. He then nonchalantly came back to stand side by side with Johnny and Jeremy, a small smile playing on his lips as he pushed his hat on his back and took out his gun too.**

**Meanwhile, three more men had joined the first four… one of them being Santiago. El Capitán was nowhere in sight and that surprised Jeremy who turned slightly to look at Johnny and whispered "Your El Capitán, where is he?"**

**The boy shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "You won't see him. He's hiding, as usual."**

**"El Capitán does not dirty his hands with fights like these," said Ortega, speaking for the first time since their arrival in town. "Watch yourself, Señor. He will not hesitate to shoot you in the back."**

**Mysteriously, the streets that were very animated just moments earlier were now emptied except for the seven men who were only about fifty yards away from them. They saw Santiago holding his hand for the men to stop while he, himself, continued until he was closer to them.**

**"Madrid, this is not your fight. Leave while you still can. I'll deal with you and Ortega later."**

**"Lo siento, Santiago. Me and Ortega, we want to share the fun and even up the odds a bit," Johnny responded. "Nice day, isn't it?" he continued, looking up at the blue sky.**

**Jeremy watched Santiago while Johnny was talking. The man shook his head and said something Jeremy didn't grasp to his men but he was sure it didn't bode too well for them. The six Mexicans spread out behind their boss and stepped back a few yards, taking cover behind a barrel, behind a cart, and wherever else they could.**

**Jeremy noticed that Ortega and Johnny were moving further away from him as well. He wondered, for just a moment, whether he had fallen into a trap when all of a sudden a volley of bullets started flying right and left, none shot by him or his two allies. He ran behind a post and started to shoot at whoever was in his line of fire. Johnny and Ortega also took cover and started to shoot as well. Within minutes, each of them took down one opponent but very soon, however, more men joined the fight against them. Each group fired a few more rounds of bullets and then, everything went quiet for a few minutes. **

**By the time Jeremy was ready to open fire again, Johnny had moved closer to him, within speaking distance. **

**"We have to find a way to get out of this mess."**

**"How the hell do you want to do this? In case you haven't noticed, we're heavily outnumbered."**

**"Yeah, you tell me! I'm planning to even the odds a bit more."**

**"Johnny, don't take chances with your life. Let's get out of here as quickly as possible."**

**"Watch my back."**

**No sooner had these words been uttered that Johnny rushed in the middle of the street and ran along with Ortega who had joined him. The two boys fired a few shots and, like Johnny had told him, evened out the odds a bit as some of their adversaries fell in the dusty street – some flat on their face, some on their backs, but all meeting their maker. **

**Still, though, there were too many men for the three of them. He heard Johnny yell something to Ortega and saw the young man darting forward, leaving Johnny alone in the street, firing with one gun in each hand. Jeremy joined the fight again and fired a few more shots, to give a chance to the boy to make it to safety. As soon as he saw Johnny running again, he started to run too.**

**Looking behind him after what seemed minutes but was only seconds, Jeremy saw that Johnny was hot on his heels. Suddenly, the boy started to zigzag and motioned for him to do the same. And then what Jeremy had feared all the while happened. He saw Johnny stumble and fall. The boy seemed to be stunned but shortly after, he turned on his back to fire a couple of shots. Jeremy fired a few shots himself and looking around, noticed Ortega who was still running in the direction of the lilac house, where he had left the horses. **

**Jeremy turned again to make sure Johnny was behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized the boy was still lying down in the street and wasn't moving. As he was about to go back to help him, the boy got up and started to run to join him. **

**"Hurry, Señor Gringo," he yelled, barely slowing down as he passed Jeremy. **

**"You okay?" Jeremy asked, running alongside the boy who had started to run in a zigzag pattern again.**

**"I'm fine!" the boy answered, grinning, a bit out of breath. "We have to light out now."**

**Jeremy could swear the youngster was enjoying the whole thing. He seemed to thrive when danger was around. They still had a few yards to cover before reaching the horses that Ortega was now holding ready for them. Bullets were still flying around them and they had to stop briefly to turn and fire a couple of rounds too. **

**Finally, they reached Ortega and both jumped on their respective horses. They all rode out of town as if the Devil was after them – which wasn't too far from the truth as Jeremy saw it. After thirty minutes, they slowed down; just long enough to have Johnny say a few words to Ortega in Spanish.**

**"You ride with me," Johnny said to Jeremy. "Hurry up."**

**"Why?" Jeremy asked as he dismounted and vaulted behind Johnny. He heard a slight hiss coming from the boy in front of him as he did, but he didn't make anything out of it. **

**"Ortega will lead them on a merry chase, to give us a chance to escape. Let's go."**

**"He's not coming with us?"**

**"No, he doesn't want to cross the border. Never has and never will, or so he says."**

**Ortega saluted, a mocking smile on his lips. "Hasta luego, Amigos", he said as he spurred his mount and rode in the direction of the desert, along with Jeremy's horse. **

**Johnny and Jeremy, now riding double, disappeared behind a series of boulders where they stayed hidden. Shortly after, they saw a group of a dozen men ride by and rush after Ortega who was by then a small point on the horizon, disappearing fast into the depths of the desert. **

**As they resumed riding, Jeremy wondered where they were going. He desperately wanted to ask but he sensed that now wasn't the time. He had felt Johnny's body tense when he had passed his arms around the boy's waist earlier and he thought back to when the boy had fallen in the street of Sonoita. **

**An hour later, they stopped. The horse needed to rest and to tell the truth they also needed it. Jeremy dismounted and waited for Johnny to do the same but the boy stayed where he was, unmoving.**

**"You coming down or you staying up there forever?"**

**"I… I don't think I can," the boy answered sheepishly. "If I do, I'll never be able to mount again."**

**"You're hurt, aren't you? I thought I felt you tense a few times while we were riding. Here. Let me help you." **

**Johnny looked down at him and Jeremy didn't like what he saw. The boy's eyes were brilliant, too brilliant. It was obvious he was starting a fever. Very slowly, he pulled the youngster off the horse and sat him carefully on the ground, his back resting against a boulder. **

**He tied the horse to a branch of a scrawny tree. It wouldn't do much good if the pinto were to bolt and leave them in this desolated place. Grabbing the canteen, he hurried to Johnny's side. The boy's face was pale but his cheeks were flushed with the rising fever. He felt his forehead and, effectively it was warmer than it should be.**

**"When?"**

**"It's what made me fall…"**

**"Why didn't you say something? I asked you if you were fine and you said yes," Jeremy said, his voice shaking with a barely suppressed anger. **

**"We had to… to…" the boy started to say, catching his breath as a hiss of pain came out of his lips.**

**"Get away, yeah, I know. Johnny, what are we going to do? We're in the middle of nowhere with only one horse and one canteen."**

**Johnny looked at him, eyes even brighter than they were a minute ago. "Not nowhere…We rest for an hour and then… then we go to Sonoita."**

**"Sonoita? Are you crazy? We just left the darn place. Why the heck would we want to go back there?"**

**"We're almost… there… We made a circle. They… won't expect us back."**

**"Oh, stop talking, for God's sake and let me look at your wound," Jeremy exclaimed as he saw the boy wincing in pain.**

**Sheriff Browne, still sitting at his desk, shook his head as the story of his meeting with Johnny Madrid was still hovering on the surface of his mind. He had gone back to Sonoita holding the limp form of Johnny in front of him. Before losing his grip on the world, the boy had told him where to go – the house with the lilac door and shutters – Mamacitá's house. **

**Jeremy had gone there only to realize, once inside, that it was the local bordello and that Mamacitá wasn't the name of the woman. All this time, he had thought she was the mother of the twin girls he had met at the general store. And Johnny had not said a word to tell him that it wasn't so. He could have strangled the boy if he wasn't so sick. **

**Together, he and Lucinda, as he found out her name was, had taken care of the boy. Lucinda had removed the bullet from his lower back and the girls had helped nursing him. The boy had been out of it, hovering between life and death for two whole days. When he finally regained consciousness, he had been adamant that they should leave while they could, before Santiago and his men returned to Sonoita. **

**And so it was that against all that was sensible, Jeremy had taken Johnny across the border with him, a mere four days after having had the bullet removed. **

**The special agent and the gunfighter had then started an unexpected friendship, running into each other whenever the boy would be around. There had been other times when they had fought on the same side and their friendship had grown in strength. **

**Jeremy had promised himself that he would always be there for the boy, should he need help. And now, it was time to fulfill his promise. Johnny needed help and help he would get, whether he wanted it or not. **

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

CHAPTER 15

Johnny had spent a lovely evening with Tierra. She had taken him to a nice little Mexican restaurant where they ate traditional Mexican food such as he had not tasted for a while and then they had taken a walk alongside the waterfront. Naturally, for the sake of being proper, they had been accompanied by Mara, one of Tierra's older cousins. They had talked, of this and that, nothing too committal, at least not on his part. They had made conversation, as Scott would have said.

Thinking about Scott hurt because, then, he also had to think about Murdoch and Teresa, and everyone else he had become so fond of since his arrival at Lancer. He had become soft, too soft. Damn, he had to do something about it. He needed to find Madrid and what better way than reverting to his old ways. He knew what to do. First, he would find a way to get rid of Mara, then grab Tierra and take her someplace where they could be quiet, where nobody would disturb them and he would have his way with her.

He turned to Tierra who was walking beside him, holding his hand. They stopped under a street lamp and one look into her green eyes and he knew he would never be able to do what he had foolishly intended to do. Forcing a girl wasn't Madrid's way, nor was it Lancer's way – well, truth be told, it used to be at one time, a long long time ago, when he had started on his self-destructive path, but it hadn't lasted long. He felt ashamed of his thoughts and smiled at her, a smile full of a barely contained sadness. He knew what she was expecting but he restrained himself. She wasn't the type of girl he could play with. He might very well burn himself if he did and now wasn't the time. Not when his future was so uncertain. It wouldn't be fair, either to the girl or to him.

"We should go back," he said instead, immediately reading the disappointment in the girl's eyes.

She lowered her eyes and disengaged her hand from his. Johnny gently took her chin in his right hand and made her look at him while stroking her hair with his free hand.

"Querida, it's not that I'm not interested."

"Then what? I thought we…"

"I've got things on my mind right now. I'm not…"

"You're not free?"

"Oh boy! No, nothing like that," he answered, laughing lightly. "No. It's more like I've got something to do and, I'm not sure I'll be able to come back."

"I'm not asking much, Johnny. I only want to get to know you better. I…"

"Tierra, I'm not used to dealing with nice girls. I'm afraid I would end up hurting you."

The girl once again dropped her head. He cursed himself. Already he'd been hurting her. He should never have accepted to spend the evening with her. It wasn't right; he knew it but… He felt so lonely. He needed to feel the presence of someone beside him. Again, he silently cursed his stupidity. He gently took the girl by the arm and resolutely headed back in the direction of the hotel. Mara was still following them, a few paces behind and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, for which he was grateful.

They walked slowly; Johnny still ashamed of the brief thought he had entertained of having his way with her and she, thinking of what could have been between them. They made their way back to the hotel and Johnny stopped just short of the corner, hesitating to continue.

"Tierra, I think it might be better if I were to find some place else to spend the night."

"No, Johnny. I'm sorry if I've upset you. Please, come in. Your room is already reserved and my father would find it suspicious if I were to come back alone. He entrusted me to you, remember?"

Johnny remembered too well. First time ever that a man had let his daughter go out with the likes of him. He knew Señor Medina had seen what he was. Damn, it was easy… the man just had to look at the way his belt was strapped around his slim hips, how low the holster was hanging on his right thigh. But, even though he knew what Johnny was, he still had trusted him to do right by his daughter. Or was it that the man knew how stubborn his daughter was and that, no matter what, she would have gone with him even without the presence of Mara?

He ended up following the two cousins inside the hotel. The middle-aged man standing behind the reception desk greeted them and handed Johnny the key to his room. While Mara silently disappeared in the direction of the dining room, the two young people climbed the stairs and Tierra went with Johnny up to his room. For a few minutes, they stood there, an awkward silence falling upon them.

"Won't you kiss me goodnight?" she asked him.

He laughed. "That I can do." And he brought his lips to hers and softly kissed her. Then he sent her on her way and opened the door to his room. Once inside, he locked the door and undressed completely, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor on the other side of the bed. It was still early, not even nine o'clock but he was tired, more than he cared to acknowledge. All those days on the trail and the niggling feeling of unease he had in the back of his mind were taking their toll. A good night's sleep and a morning spent lazily in bed were just what he needed before continuing his trip. Within a matter of minutes, he was fast asleep.

Scott and Val were leading the way with Murdoch lagging slightly behind. They had been on the road for a couple of hours and, already, the older man's back was protesting. No matter how he was sitting on his horse, he couldn't seem to find any position to ease the pressure he felt on his lower back. He knew that soon they would have to stop for a while – a long while most likely. He hated it and was trying to postpone it for as long as possible.

While Scott and Val were exchanging a few words, Murdoch was content to stay behind, losing himself in his thoughts, looking back to the first day of his meeting with the two strangers that were his sons. He still couldn't believe he had told them the ranch was the most important thing in his eyes. What a fool he had been. Instead of welcoming them with open arms, he had told them about their mothers' eyes and temper. No wonder those first few weeks had been so rocky – particularly where his younger son was concerned.

What had he seen in Johnny's eyes that first day? Deep blue eyes filled with hurt, longing, and curiosity mixed with a certain degree of hate. And what had he done? He'd pushed him back. He'd let his distaste of gunfighters take precedence over the fact that this particular gunfighter was his son, his own flesh and blood. A boy still, really, despite his 20 years on this earth.

Murdoch had been far from expecting him to arrive at the same time as Scott – in fact, considering what he had learned about the young man, he hadn't been expecting him at all. Fifteen months earlier, he had been severely shocked to find out, through the Pinkerton Agency, that his little chubby boy was none other than the infamous Johnny Madrid, a very well known gunfighter exercising his activities on both sides of the border. A gunfighter who ranked among the very best and one of the most dangerous men he'd ever heard of.

Murdoch was sitting in the waiting room of the Pinkerton Agency's office in San Francisco, waiting to meet with the Branch Director. He was nervous, real nervous. A few days earlier, he had received a telegram requesting his presence. They had information about his younger son to impart and preferred to see him in person instead of sending him the regular report. He was intrigued and more than a little apprehensive. What if they wanted to tell him the boy was dead? Was he ready to accept that? In his heart, though, he felt that he would have known if his son was dead. No, it must be something else… but what?

The rancher had made arrangements with his foreman, Paul O'Brien, to take care of the ranch for a few days and had left immediately the following day. He had travelled by stage to reach San Francisco more quickly. Upon his arrival, he had booked a room at the hotel where the Cattlemen's Association usually met whenever one of their meetings was held there. As soon as he had refreshed himself a bit, he hurried over to the agency. He was a bit early for his appointment but he couldn't care less. And so it was that he was now sitting and waiting, as patiently as he could.

Less than thirty minutes after his arrival, the door of the director's office opened. A tall middle-aged man, on the lean side and dressed in grey attire, came out. Upon seeing Murdoch, he went directly to stand in front of him.

"Mr. Lancer, I presume," he said, extending his right hand to Murdoch who took it in his own huge hand and shook it.

"Yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Malcolm."

"Please come in. Would you care for a cup of coffee?"

"I wouldn't mind. Thank you," Murdoch answered, following the director into the office.

He sat in the chair he was shown while Mr. Malcolm went out again to tell his assistant to prepare two cups of coffee. Soon he was back and was taking his place behind his desk. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the right side drawer. He finally retrieved a black file that he put carefully onto the desktop. By that time, his assistant had brought a tray with two cups of coffee. One was put in front of Murdoch and the other one, in front of the director.

Without any more preliminaries, Mr. Malcolm opened the discussion. "You must really be wondering why we've asked you to come, Mr. Lancer."

"Yes. I have to say that I don't really understand. What it is that could be so sensitive that you can't send me the regular report?"

"It is sensitive, indeed. And it concerns your son, Johnny."

"You found him?" Murdoch asked, expectantly.

"Yes and no. We found under what name he is living. He's never used the Lancer name, that's one of the reasons it's been so hard to find him."

"One of the reasons? What do you mean?"

"That and the fact that he's moving around a lot, never staying very long in one place. Well, to cut it short, it seems your son is known under the name of Johnny Madrid down in Mexico."

"WHAT!" Murdoch yelled as he sprang up from his seat, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

"Calm down, Mr. Lancer."

"No, that can't be. No son of mine could turn out that bad."

"Mr. Lancer, gunfighting in itself isn't illegal. It's a profession like any other. However, it's people like John Wes Hardin that taint it with how they go about it. Some are simply cold-blooded murderers. And, unfortunately, it seems your son is one of them. Believe me, I sympathize with you Mr. Lancer. But, all the evidence we found lately leads to him… And judging from your reaction, you have heard about Johnny Madrid."

Murdoch, unable to speak anymore, sat back in his chair and nodded without taking his eyes from the director.

"We were not able to get much information in Mexico itself. Let's say that our agents are not too welcome down there. Particularly when they ask questions about a certain blue-eyed young gunfighter. It seems the young man has made some powerful enemies, particularly among the well-to-do social strata and the authorities. However, on this side of the border, we were able to make contact with people who have met him."

"Do you mean to say your agents have not yet met him face to face?" asked Murdoch, finally able to get his voice back but still shaking with indignation.

"Yes. Somehow, he's always been able to… how can I say, stay one step ahead of them. He's very elusive. If he doesn't want to be found, nobody can. At least, that's what we've been told by some people who know him, have worked with or against him. Anyway, we have compiled a whole set of information about his activities, the gunfights he's been involved in, the range wars…"

"Is he… is he wanted by the law?"

"Well, not here. Not that we're aware of, at least. But, in Mexico, that's another story. He has a price on his head."

"Did he commit any murders aside from those gunfights he's been known to have been into?"

"We suspect he did, but we have no proof. In any case, from what we've been able to gather, he's a hardened killer. As I said, in Mexico, he is definitely a wanted man. I would advise caution if you were to contact him. And if you do meet him, I would suggest you do so in a neutral place, not at your ranch."

Murdoch couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could a son of his become a killer? What had happened to make him turn to the gun? Why had Maria taken the boy from him? Why? Why? Why? So many questions unanswered.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the director talking to him until he saw the man standing in front of him, handing him a report.

"Here, Mr. Lancer. This is the final report we've compiled on your son and his activities. Take it home with you and read it. If you do wish to contact him, let us know. But, as I said, be careful. A man like that is dangerous and unpredictable."

Murdoch took the report and stood up. He walked to the door and upon reaching for the doorknob he turned abruptly, retraced his steps and stood in front of Mr. Malcolm.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malcolm, I forget my manners. Thanks for everything," he said, taking the director's hand in his and shaking it. Then, with his head down, he left the office to return to his hotel. He was lost, and for once in his life, didn't quite know what to do.

Back in his room, he grabbed the bottle of scotch that had been deposited on his bedside table by the hotel manager and filled a glass. He gulped the contents and poured another glass. And then, only then, he did open the folder containing the report and start to read.

Murdoch was brought back to the reality by an insistent voice that was trying to worm its way into his head.

"Are you okay?" asked the voice, filled with concern.

The older man shook his head to clear it and looked down. He was still on his horse's back but Scott was dismounted and stood beside him, a worried look crossing his features. Val was still on his horse but was blocking his way ahead.

"Wh… what?"

"Are you okay, Mr. Lancer?" asked Val.

"Yes, yes… I'm sorry. I guess I was lost in my thoughts."

"You're thinking about Johnny, aren't you?" Scott wanted to know.

"Yes. I was remembering the day I learned who he was."

"Mr. Lancer, I think we should stop here for a little while."

Murdoch wasn't fooled. He knew they wanted to stop because of him and he absolutely refused to be the cause of another delay in finding his younger son.

"I'm fine, don't worry. I'm just fine!"

"Murdoch, the horses need to rest. You need to rest. It won't do any good if you fall off your horse or if your back gets so knotted you won't be able to move."

Murdoch looked at Scott and knew he was defeated. He nodded and dismounted. Then the three of them walked their horses to a little clearing a few yards away. Murdoch sat down on a large flat rock and took a swallow from his canteen while Val and Scott prepared a small fire so that they could drink some hot coffee.

Once it was done, Val came to sit beside him and offered him hot coffee in a tin mug. Murdoch took it gratefully. He needed the stuff, badly. Remembering all that had been hard.

"Mr. Lancer, we'll find him. I'd do anything for this boy of yours, absolutely anything."

"Including killing?"the rancher asked.

Val looked at him in the eyes and nodded, his voice was almost broken when he continued speaking. "Yes and I wouldn't hesitate a second. Johnny has saved my butt more times than I care to count. Him and me… I have no family, Mr. Lancer. Johnny is as close as a brother to me. I'd give my soul to the devil if it were to save him."

Murdoch bowed his head in shame. How could he have failed to see how deep the friendship the Sheriff and his son had shared was? He was only just beginning to have a good relationship with his son when everyone around him had already understood there had always been more to the boy than what appeared on the surface. It seems he had been the only one who kept pushing him away while all he would have had to do is simply open his heart and let him in. He vowed to do everything in his power to make amends and show his son how much he meant to him if… no, when he found him because find him he would, even if it were the last thing he'd do on this earth.

It was past midnight and Tierra was silently pacing back and forth outside Johnny's room, debating whether or not she would use the extra key she had stolen from the front desk when she replaced the clerk.

She couldn't understand her behaviour. Johnny had been clear and honest with her – he didn't need that kind of distraction now, he was on a mission. But, somehow, she felt compelled. She needed him, no… she wanted him, badly enough to defy the conventions, badly enough to give herself freely to him, even knowing she might never see him again.

Finally, she made up her mind and, after making sure no one was about, she carefully inserted the key in the lock and opened the door as quietly as humanly possible.

Once inside, she closed the door and locked it. She took a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the almost total darkness of the room. Only a very faint sliver of light was coming from a small opening in the curtains. Slowly, she made her way to the bed and the form she was now making out.

The young man she sought was deeply asleep. She knew what he was, or rather what he had been in the past. So, she grabbed his holster, which was hanging on the bedpost only to realize it was empty. She looked around trying to figure out where the gun could be and her eyes fell on the pillow. Johnny had one hand tucked under it and she knew she would have to tread very carefully so as not to startle him and risk facing the wrong end of his gun.

As Tierra made it to the other side of the bed, she tripped on the clothes that were discarded on the floor and was suddenly propelled onto the floor, finding herself pinned under Johnny's body entwined in the blanket.

"What the hell are you doing here?" a very surprised Johnny asked once he realized who was struggling under him.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 16

Johnny moved away from Tierra to lie beside her, breathing heavily as he let his gun drop on the floor. He finally sat up and gathered the blanket around his naked body, suddenly aware of the awkward situation they were in. 

"Querida, you shouldn't be here. You know that, don't you?"

The young woman also sat up and looked at him, blushing in the semi-darkness. She dropped her head to hide a smile even though she knew he could barely see her.

"Hmmm, I know but now, I'm here."

"You should go back to your room," he said, protesting feebly when she half turned to face him and slid a hand under the blanket, stroking his chest. 'Oh boy, how the hell am I going to be able to resist the temptation?' he thought.

She distanced herself from him and he breathed a little easier. He watched her move over to the window and open the curtains to let the light from the full moon enter the bedroom.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his voice low.

"I want to see you," she answered, keeping her voice low as well.

Johnny felt himself blush scarlet. There he was, in a hotel room, sitting on the floor, his back propped up against the wall, alone with the daughter of the owner of the hotel, and only wrapped in a thin blanket. That was a sure recipe for disaster and he knew it. He knew it, but as Tierra got up and stood in the moonlight, he felt his resolve not to be involved lessen slightly. 

She let her dressing gown fall to the floor and he could see the curves of her soft body through the very sheer fabric of her light pink negligee. She put her hands over her breasts and touched them in a very slow motion. Then one of her hands moved over to her navel and down to her belly pulling her negligee up a little as she moved her hand up and down. She continued touching her breasts with her other hand; and all the while she walked toward him, totally appreciative of the effect she was having on him. 

Johnny swallowed hard but didn't move from where he was. It was as if he was rooted to the spot. 'What's wrong with me? I shouldn't be here! No, hell, SHE shouldn't be here.'

She was right in front of him and he had to raise his head to see her properly. He craned his neck and gasped as she undid the ribbons keeping her negligee in place and let it fall off her shoulders. In a matter of seconds, she was naked and he found himself gathering his legs under him and getting up, the blanket covering him staying on the floor as he did. 

They stood in front of each other for what seemed like ages. Slowly, Johnny put his hands on her shoulders and tried to push her away but she clung to him.

"No," he said, his voice cracking. Dios! She was already having too much effect on him; his body was betraying him in the worst way. 

"Don't you find me attractive?" she asked, her voice taking on a sulky note as she moved away from him so he could see her better.

"Si, you are. But…"

"But what?"

"Querida, this is not right. Your father…"

"My father is asleep at the other end of the hotel. He can't hear us."

"No, it's not that… He, he… entrusted you to me. I'm sure he's not gonna be hap…"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Tierra, Querida… I…"

"You want me as much as I want you, Johnny. Now, don't you?" she said, closing the distance between them and once again rubbing her body against him. She pushed his legs apart with her left leg and she brushed against his inner thights voluptuously. 

He took a deep breath and pulled her close to him. "Yes," he simply said as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her chastely. At least, he intended the kiss to be just that, a sweet kiss to calm her but she eagerly opened her mouth and teased him with her tongue… His mouth opened slightly to let her tongue in and he deepened the kiss while holding her close. And he was lost, hopelessly lost. 

They slowly sank to the floor, their bodies as one. He felt his member harden even more and it took all of his inner control not to rush things. She was trembling as he lay her down and positioned himself on top of her. 

That's when realization dawned upon him. For all her earlier forwardness, and the way she was now shaking under him, he realized she most probably had never done the act. He moved away from her and sat on his haunches, looking at her as it all hit him. 

"Querida, you… you've never done it before, have you?"

"No… I…"

"It's not too late, we can stop if you want," Johnny said, trying desperately to stay in control. He would not force her, no way he would do that, no matter how much he wanted her. And he sure did want her. Her mere presence in his room made his blood dance. 

She looked at him, tears in her eyes and trembling even more.

"I… I want you to be the first, Johnny."

"Tierra, it will ruin you for your future husband. You're not a whore and I'm… I'm just a…"

"You're a wonderful man, Johnny Madrid Lancer. I want you… and you want me."

Johnny shook his head. She was right. He wanted her too, madly. So madly that he was almost ready to throw caution to the wind. He'd never felt that way before with a girl. Oh, he had had plenty of girls – young ones, older ones, good looking ones and not so good looking ones, even married women – well, one at least as a quick recollection of Consuelo flashed in his mind. When he was roaming the border towns, they all wanted to lay with him because he was dangerous – that's what he had thought. But he had never had a good girl. And Tierra was one, even if she was foolishly offering herself to him. 

He thought how funny it was that Johnny Madrid might not have hesitated to take what was so generously offered to him. But Johnny Lancer was another matter altogether. Hell, come to think of it, neither Madrid nor Lancer had ever had sex with a virgin. It would be a novel experience for him and he had to admit that it was very tempting. But, he still hesitated as he definitely didn't want to hurt Tierra.

It was, however, harder and harder to resist as the girl kept pressing herself against him. Such a temptation it was… and the longer it went on for, the more he felt his resolve fail and the more his body was reacting to her closeness. 

"No, Tierra, please, stop," he tried again as once more, she started to stroke his chest, moving her hand down first to his flat stomach then lower and lower, until she came across his genitals. He gasped when she gently took hold of his testicles and started caressing them. 

"Why stop? You want it. I can feel it. I want it, too."

"That's just it, Querida. I want it, I really do, but…"

"Stop arguing with me. I want you here, now."

Johnny sighed and closed his eyes. As she touched him again, his final resolve melted. He wanted her badly, he needed her. By now, another rush of blood hit him and it was almost impossible to continue resisting – the exquisite pain he was feeling was simply too much to bear. And after all, wasn't he just a man? He couldn't possibly be expected to resist forever, unless he up and left! He realized he didn't want to do that. No, what he wanted, really, was to make love to the girl.

"Okay," he said with a small laugh. He scrambled up and went to the bedside table. He turned the wick of the small lamp sitting on the top, just enough to let a very soft light spread into the room. Then he went to the bed and he grabbed the mattress.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, the bed is squeaking and the floor is too hard," answered Johnny, grinning ear to ear as he moved the mattress down to the floor. He flopped down on the soft mattress and stretched lazily. Now that he had made his decision, he found he could hardly wait.

"Come, Querida," he said softly to the girl who was watching him, her eyes shining with barely disguised anticipation. 

While Murdoch slept, Scott and Val were sitting a few yards away, standing vigil. Both were lost in their thoughts.

"Val, do you mind keeping watch? I think I'll lie down a spell."

"It's okay Scott. I'm not tired anyway. Have a siesta. I'll wake you up in an hour then we'll ride up to the pass and spend the night there. It's gonna be a few more hours before we get there."

Scott nodded and left Val to his musings. The sheriff was glad, in a way. Being alone meant that he could think about how best to approach this whole situation. He had no doubt his young friend was heading straight for trouble. What had possessed him to leave without telling his family?

Oh, he knew the answer, naturally. Whoever knew Johnny well enough knew the answer as well as he did. The young man was so used to dealing with things alone that it didn't occur to him that people may be willing to help him because they cared what happen to him. 

"Once we find him, I will strangle him," Val vowed, muttering under his breath. 

He had meant what he had told Murdoch earlier, that he could kill for the boy. What he hadn't told Murdoch is that he'd already killed for him, more than once. 

The sheriff, who was a hired gun at the time, had agreed to protect a shipment of silver coming from one of the mines near Sonoita and destined for the Mexican government. Like many others, he had heard about Johnny Madrid, a very young gunfighter on the rise. He had not known if he could believe the rumors to the effect the boy was already extremely fast and he was looking forward to meeting the young man. He didn't know, at the time, that Johnny was just over 15 years old. He thought he was more like 18 or 19. 

Val himself was relatively fast but he wasn't in this business to make a name for himself. Rather, it was a means to an end. Years ago, he had had a falling out with his father and had left the family farm in New Mexico. He knew he was good with a gun and had started to hire out, just to piss off his old man. But then, he had taken a liking to his profession and was exercising it very seriously. He was mostly hiring on as a guard or fighting in range wars but always after carefully weighing is options. 

He wasn't too crazy about killing for the sake of killing. If asked, he would invariably say that it wasn't his area of expertise. He knew plenty of gunfighters who were good at killing, who enjoyed that game. In his opinion, there were two kinds of gunfighters. Those who, like him, took their profession seriously and hired out to protect various types of shipments or would usually choose to work for whoever was on the right side of the law and the others, those who liked to kill. 

He had heard that Madrid belonged to the second category. At least, that's what some of his "business associates" had told him. That didn't impress him too much but he was curious as to what could make a gunfighter decide to go that way that early in his career as opposed to choosing the "honourable" side of the profession. 

This particular part of Mexico was a refuge for outlaws and killers from both sides of the border. They would hide in the Sonora desert, in places where even the Rurales were afraid to go. Sonoita was one of those little border towns where people wanting to escape from the law would go through. Val was perfectly aware of the dangers of coming to such a place, but he had been told to await his orders at the local cantina. 

And so he was waiting… had been waiting for the last couple of days in fact. And he was tired of waiting, of minding his own business and staying out of trouble. But, he knew that when the owner of the Mexican silver mine he was working for said "hoy" or "mañana", it most likely meant a few days after and not really "today" or "tomorrow". He could have arrived later but he didn't want to offend his employer were he, for once, to decide to come at the appointed time. 

As he was pondering what to do next, the batwing doors opened to leave passage to a group of five men. Well, he snorted, five men was a bit exaggerated as he noticed that one of them was clearly underage. They went to sit directly at the table next to Val's. 

A young woman came to take their order. She last looked at the youngest of the gang and smiled at him.

"¿Y usted, Señor? ¿Qué quieres beber?"

"Tequila, por favor, Señorita encantadora." The boy had said in a surprisingly soft and melodious voice. "Y pues, una poco rato se solo con ti."

Val choked on his beer and started coughing. The boy had nerve. He saw the woman simply swat the boy's hand away and laugh.

"¡Ojalá pudiera!" she answered him with a tempting little smile and left him to get their order ready. 

Val snorted, this time attracting the men's attention. He felt five pair of eyes looking in his direction but one pair in particular was boring into him. Val looked up from his glass and found himself staring into the young boy's eyes. He took a sip of his beer and pushed his chair against the wall, letting it stand on its two rear legs.

The boy also pushed his chair and got up. He walked to Val's table, his steps deliberately slow. He retrieved one of the chairs with his foot and sat down in front of Val. 

Once again, Val took a sip and placed his glass very carefully on the table. He watched the young Mexican. Yep, he was young, very young in fact. Much too young to be hanging around in a cantina. And there was something strange about his eyes. He couldn't quite discern their color as it was a bit too dark in the place but he knew that they were as cold as ice. 

"You got something to say, Old Man? Say it!"

Val raised an eyebrow. 'Old Man! Old Man! Well, I'll be damned. Who does he think he is?'

He was surprised to hear the boy speak English so well. He only had a slight accent. With some practice, he could eventually get rid of it.

"Yeah."

"Well? Say it! I'm waitin'!"

"Didn't know they were allowing niños in here, is all."

"No soy un niño. No han sido en años." the boy answered back in Spanish.

Val chuckled. 'Ah! He reverts to Spanish when he's pissed-off. Interesting. Let's see how far I can push him.'

"¿Oh si? ¿Piensas que puedes joder una mujer? Tu pene es mucho demasiado pequeño."

'There, that ought to teach him not to call me an Old Man.' And Val snorted again.

This time, the boy was spitting mad. "You are insulting me, Gringo. Get out!"

"What for?" asked Val, in a mocking tone.

"To dance. Voy te enseñar una lección de etiqueta, Viejo."

Val swore as he realized he had gone too far. Him and his big mouth! He was in this accursed little town to wait for the man who had hired him and there he was, about to take part in a gunfight with a child. How the hell could he get out of this one?

"You think you can take me all by yourself?" he asked the boy who was now standing up.

"There's only one way to find out."

"I don't like fighting with a nobody. I'm Val Crawford, gunfighter."

"Me llamo Johnny Madrid," answered the boy with pride.

'Oh shit! Well, Val my friend, you wanted to meet the man – there he is.' Val closed his eyes briefly before slowly getting up. 

"I don't suppose we can start all over again, can we?"

"No. You have insulted me in front of these people. Lo siento, Señor Crawford, but you are gonna have to dance with me, whether you like it or not."

Val knew the boy felt his honor was at stake and, considering he had said those rather insulting words to him in Spanish, instead of in English, everybody had heard and understood. Hell, he couldn't see any way out of it. So, he followed the young Mexican out of the cantina. 

Val noticed that the boy went right in the middle of the street and turned to face him. He shrugged. Naturally, Madrid had chosen the best spot so that he, Val, was facing the sun. Well, that's how things were usually played out in a gunfight. The first man out got to choose the best possible spot. He had been in a few of these fights in the past and so far, had always come out of it unscathed but he was well aware that, sooner or later, a faster man would take him. He wanted to remain on this earth for as long as possible and that's why he usually avoided confronting other gunfighters. But this time, it seemed this particular fight couldn't be avoided. As he moved to his side, he sent a quick prayer to God. 

The two men were now facing each other. Both were looking in each other's eyes, waiting for the right moment to move. Val was hoping his young opponent would make a mistake and give him an opening. He didn't intend to kill the boy, just wound him seriously enough so that he wouldn't represent a menace to him anymore. But, the boy in front of him seemed to be pretty well aware of how the game was played.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, Val saw a movement behind the boy, up on the balcony of the mercantile located a couple of doors away from the cantina and he yelled as he sprung into action.

"Behind you, balcony!"

He got his gun out of his holster and fired, almost at the same time as the man on the balcony fired too. As if in slow motion, he saw the young Mexican fall to the ground, turn on his back and open fire as yet another figure emerged from behind a post on the other side of the street. 

Then, within a few seconds, everything was quiet. Val moved toward the young gunfighter who was still on the ground, his gun was still in his hand and he was looking around to make sure there was no more danger.

"You okay?" he asked, smiling at the boy.

"Yeah! Mostly," the boy answered, a shy smile turning the corner of his mouth up.

"Here, let me help you up."

"No! I can… I can make it."

Scott's siesta didn't last long. Still lying but propped up on his elbow, he watched the sheriff. Val was still thinking about his encounter with Johnny Madrid and totally unaware of the display of emotion that was crossing his face. He was smiling as Scott cleared his throat and addressed him.

"Hey ho, Val. I hope whatever it is that got you smiling like that was worth it."

Val looked at him, sheepishly. "I was thinking about your brother and how I met him."

"That must be a story in itself. Is it?"

"Sure is. Maybe one day we will tell you. Right now, I think we need to get going. Is your father awake?"

"Yes, Sheriff Crawford. I am awake," Murdoch's booming voice answered. 

"You up for another few hours of travel?"

"Let's go. We've lost enough time as it is," the older man answered as he mounted his horse and gathered the reins in his big hands. 

"¿Y usted, Señor? ¿Qué quieres beber?" - And you, Señor, what do you want to drink?

"Tequila, por favor, Señorita encantadora." - Tequila, please, charming lady.

"Y pues, una poco rato se solo con ti." - And then a little time alone with you.

"¡Ojalá pudiera!" – If only I could!

"No soy un niño. No han sido en años." - I'm not a child. Haven't been in years.

"¿Oh si? ¿Piensas que puedes joder una mujer? Tu pene es mucho demasiado pequeño." - Oh yeah? You think you can fuck a woman? Your penis is much too small.

"Voy te enseñar una lección de etiqueta, Viejo." - I am going to teach you a lesson in manner, Old Man.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

And Val stepped back, letting the boy do what he must, letting him keep his face A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 17

Tierra sat on the mattress beside Johnny who was stretched out in all his glory. She wasn't sure exactly what to expect and now that the young man seemed ready to lie with her, she was suddenly a little bit afraid.

She had had long talks with a couple of her friends who had recently gotten married. They had told her of their first time with their respective husbands. Both had said the sexual act hurt when it was first performed but that after, it was okay. One of her friends, Cara, had described what her husband had done to her and Tierra was wondering if Johnny would do the same thing and if he would be as rough as Eduardo had been with his young wife.

Somehow, though, she thought Johnny would be gentle. He didn't seem the type to hurry things over and his hands were not rough. Well, they were but not like the hands of the only other young man she had briefly let touch her.

She smiled at the memory – a young gringo had cornered her in the alley, behind the hotel, and had kissed her roughly. And then he had slipped his hand under her blouse, stroking her breasts. His hand had then started to travel down but her father had chosen that moment to come out of the hotel by the back door. Alejandro Medina had chased the young gringo out of the alley and all the way to the end of the street. He had been mad at her – she had been barely 16 at the time – had her confined to her room for a whole week and then sent her to a boarding school for two years, back in Spain, living under her grandfather's watchful eyes. In fact, Tierra had only been back in Los Angeles for a little more than a year, after the death of her grandfather.

Tierra shook her head. Now wasn't the time to think about her father and her forced exile in Spain. Right now, something much more interesting was about to happen and it had everything to do with the discovery of love.

She looked at the young man lying beside her and offered him a shy smile. He propped up on one elbow and examined her in such a way that she couldn't help but blush.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, offering her a chance to change her mind.

She swallowed and nodded, then she closed her eyes. She was trying very hard to stop shaking and she heard him stifle a laugh. And then, when she finally opened her eyes, she found herself looking directly into his eyes. As he pushed her gently onto the mattress and positioned himself above her, she suddenly realized that, whereas she had been in control before, it was now he who was.

After an uneventful few hours of riding on an almost deserted road, the two Lancers and Val made it to the Tejon Pass. There was less than two hours of daylight left, enough to go down the mountain but not quite enough to find another good spot to spend the night. The pass was the best choice, unless…

"Mr. Lancer, down below is the old Fort Tejon. It's now part of the El Tejon Ranchero and I happen to know the owner. Maybe we could ask for his hospitality tonight. Might be better for you."

"No, Sheriff. I don't want to be a bother to them."

"Murdoch, Val may be right. I doubt you'll be able to stand another night on the hard ground. We're not blind, you know. We both see you're hurting. And you won't be of any help to Johnny if your back gives up on you."

The older Lancer clearly wasn't happy with their suggestion and he was stubborn to a fault. But, in this particular case, he knew they were both right. If he slept in the open tonight, there was no way he would be able to get up come morning. He'd be too stiff. No, he needed a softer bed than the hard-packed ground.

"All right, let's go there then. How well do you know these people, Sheriff?"

"Pretty well. I worked for Mr. Beale a few years ago… About the same time as Johnny did, as a matter of fact."

Murdoch and Scott both sighed. Another thing they didn't know about the young ex-gunfighter.

"How long ago?" asked Scott, curiosity eating him.

"Oh, about three years ago or so. Just before Johnny went back to Mexico to help with the revolution. In fact, I was already working here when he dropped by, on his way north. Was a nice surprise 'cause I hadn't seen him in weeks."

Murdoch looked sharply at Val. His son had been within reach and he hadn't known about it. Hell, Johnny had never told him that he had ever come that near. Had he been on his way to see him? Val had said "on his way north" and that was where Lancer was.

He knew his dark-haired whirlwind was feeling more at home now but would there come a day when he would be able to let all the walls he had erected around him come down? Would he, Murdoch, be able to do it, too? Because, if he wanted to be totally honest, he had also built walls around himself as a way to protect himself against the hand that Fate had dealt him. Losing his wives and his sons had been a terrible blow. And his inability to find Maria and Johnny… well, that had been probably the biggest failure of his life, even more so than failing to get custody of his older son. At least, he had always known Scott was well provided for. But Johnny… That was another story entirely.

He was perfectly aware, too, that the reason Johnny left without telling them anything was to spare them from his past. A past the boy was often ashamed of and a past that Murdoch was starting to realize had been what had kept the boy alive all those years. A past he should be grateful for, in a way. The 'father' had come to finally understand that Johnny Madrid and Johnny Lancer were inseparable from one another. Both made up the man Johnny was and he, Murdoch Lancer, was damn proud of the man his younger son had become – an impossibly caring young man, a man always ready to put the welfare of others before his own. Now, if that wasn't the mark of a good man, then he didn't know what the hell it was.

It had taken him more than eighteen months to find out who was hiding under the mask of Madrid. And during that year and a half, Scott had often acted as a buffer between the rancher and his gunfighter son. But, this time, when they found Johnny, he would rein in his temper and make sure the boy understood that whatever it was that sent him on his way wasn't worth taking the risk of losing everything he'd found at Lancer. This time, he would tell his son how much he loved him.

The older man sighed and followed Scott and Val down the path leading to the fort. It took the better part of an hour to get to the bottom of the mountain. But once they were, they found themselves near the entry to the old army outpost.

Val rode through the entrance first, closely followed by the two Lancers. To their left, a few men came out from what looked like a huge bunkhouse to meet them. The semi-darkness made it difficult for them to make out whether or not the visitors were friends or foes. Thus, it wasn't surprising to see that all were armed with rifles and were aiming them straight at the visitors' hearts. Val smiled as he recognized their leader.

"Holà Manolo!"

The man squinted his eyes and looked hard at the three newcomers but particularly at the speaker.

"Val? Is that you, Compadre?"

"Who else? Sure it's me!" answered Val laughing as he dismounted. Doing so, he noticed that both Murdoch and Scott had stopped a little behind him and stayed on their horses.

The man called Manolo grabbed Val in a fierce embrace, patting his back with one of his hands.

"What a surprise! What are you doing here, Val? Looking for work?"

"Nah! I've got a well-paid job… Well, I think I still have it. We're looking for a place to spend the night. You think Mr. Beale would object to us staying here tonight?"

"No problemo. I'll send a rider to tell him you're here. He might even want to see you. Who are your friends?" Manolo retorted, looking past Val at Scott and Murdoch.

Val turned back to the Lancers and motioned for them to dismount. Scott did it elegantly but it was obvious Murdoch was having some problems. However, he refused help when Scott went near him and ended up on the ground without further difficulties.

"These gentlemen here are Murdoch Lancer and his son, Scott. Son padre y hermano de Juanito."

Manolo's eyes grew large, and so did the eyes of a few others close enough to hear the exchange.

"Lancer as in the Lancer Ranch up in the San Joaquin Valley?"

"Yes, that's right," Scott answered instead of Val. "Pleased to meet you, Manolo," he continued, extending his hand.

"I… I'm very pleased to meet you, Señor Lancer. But, this is a surprise! A real surprise!"

"Please, call me Scott. My father here is Mr. Lancer," Scott said smiling, indicating his father.

Manolo took Murdoch's hand in his and shook it up and down vigorously. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Señor. Juanito was a good ranch hand and the greatest horse breaker I've ever had the pleasure of working with. I'm sorry for your loss."

Murdoch and Scott looked at Val, questions in their eyes.

"Manolo, can we go inside? We've got things to tell you, things you might not be aware of."

"Si, si. Por favor, come this way. I'm sure you must be both hungry and thirsty. We were just about to start our dinner. I'll tell my wife to add three more place settings and you'll join us. Then, we'll talk."

Three of the vaqueros took the horses away to bed them for the night while Manolo took his guests inside a small house standing not far from the bunkhouse. As the Segundo, he had been given the larger of the former Officers Quarters lodgings for him and his family. The single vaqueros, Indians and Mexicans alike, were living in the old barracks that had been transformed into bunkhouses. In fact, all of the army buildings were used for one purpose or another.

Manolo directed Val and the Lancers to a small but cozy dining room and told them to sit down while he went to the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with a middle-aged plump woman whom he introduced as his wife, Marguerita.

Soon everybody was sitting around the table and partaking of one of the most delicious Mexican meals the Lancers and Val had ever tasted. Once his guests' hunger was satisfied, the Segundo excused himself and came back with a bottle of tequila and four glasses.

"So, my friend, what is this all about? How did you find Juanito's Americano family?" asked Manolo, swirling his glass of tequila.

"Well, you do know that when Johnny went back to Mexico, he got involved in a revolution, got caught and was sentenced to die and dragged in front of a firing squad."

"Si. We heard he was executed two years ago. Señor Beale was very sad. He liked the boy. He would have kept him here with us, even though he was a gunfighter. He thought it wasn't too late for him to change his life around, if only someone would give him a chance."

"I know. But Johnny, well, he's always been very stubborn."

"Està correcto, Val. Obstinado y oculto. Stubborn to a fault and filled with a sense of unworthiness such as I have never seen."

"You know him well, it seems," Scott said, a little sadly.

"Know? Knew you mean."

Val smiled. "No, Manolo. Know. Johnny is alive."

"What? But… How?"

"In short, the boy was rescued at the very last minute and went to meet his father at his rancho. He's been living there for the last couple of years."

"Oh! But that is wonderful. It is good that he didn't go when he was here then, isn't it, Val?"

"Why?" asked Scott, upon seeing Val nodding in agreement and the strange look that crossed his father's face.

Manolo looked at him, sadness filling his eyes. "You see, Señor Scott, when he arrived here, he was a very angry young man. He had only one idea in his head and it was to kill his Gringo father. I tried to talk him out of it, so did Señor Beale and Val, here, who already knew him. At first, he was adamant. He wanted to travel north and put a bullet between your eyes. Lo siento! Señor Lancer. But it's the truth!" the Segundo said, looking at Murdoch.

"Do not worry, Manolo," Murdoch said. "I already know that. I saw his eyes when he first came home. He was hurt, full of hate and suspicions. I knew I was taking a chance by having him come to meet me at the ranch, but I had finally found him. He is my son, my flesh and my blood. Even though I don't necessarily agree with how he lived his life, I realize he hardly had any choice. He found a way to stay alive and now that I have finally started to understand him more, I'm glad that Johnny Madrid has been there to keep him alive."

"Then, you are a better man than many, Señor. I do not know many who would have accepted a gunfighter with his reputation in their life, hijo or not."

"Oh! It wasn't easy," Scott said, jumping in. "They bumped heads quite often those first few months. But everything was getting to be so much easier for all of us. And he had toread that damn letter," he continued, slamming his hand on the table. "Why couldn't he trust us?"

"Oh! I gather that he has left then and that you're after him. Is that so?"

"Yeah," Val answered. "The foolish boy is gone and I'm ready to bet a whole year of my wages as sheriff that he's once again putting his life on the line."

"Sheriff?" Manolo asked surprised.

"That's right. You've got in front of you the Sheriff of Green River. I realized gunfighting wasn't really for me, nor was the life of a cowboy. I was good with a gun and I figured I would try my hand as a lawman."

Manolo laughed. "Well, Amigo, that's good news. But, I bet you get almost as dirty playing sheriff as you did playing cowboy!"

"That he does, Manolo, that he does!" Scott answered in lieu of Val, laughing too as he remembered the day that Johnny had forced Val to dress in Scott's clothes so that he would make a good impression on the Cattlemen's Association members and be re-elected without problems.

"You think he's gone back to Mexico?" Manolo asked, thoughtfully.

"We're positive. That's where he's heading. We also know he's probably been this way no more than a couple of days ago." Val responded.

"Ah! Red Cloud did say he had seen the Ghost of Johnny Madrid higher up in the mountain one night. We all thought he was drunk once again and none of us believed him. Particularly since up to an hour or so ago, we all thought Johnny had been killed. By now, he's probably on his way to San Diego."

"Why San Diego?" Scott wanted to know.

"It is the logical place to either cross the border or head over in the direction of Tucson," answered Murdoch. "I think we should go now. We've got to find him before he does something foolish!"

"Señor Lancer, traveling at night is too dangerous. He's a little more than a day ahead of you and even if you go now, you won't catch him. You should rest here tonight and leave at first light tomorrow. Juanito, he will need to rest, too."

"Murdoch, we've already talked about this. You need the rest, we need it and so do our horses. I know you want to find my crazy little brother, we all do. But please, listen to reason for once," Scott pleaded with his father.

The older man sighed and dropped his head. "You're right, son. I'm just… I'm worried," he admitted with a small smile that made Scott's heart swell with pride at the admission.

"Then, it is settled, Senores. We have extra rooms in the bunkhouse. I'll have them prepared and you can all spend a good night's rest."

Son padre y hermano de Juanito. – They are Johnny's father and brother.

Està correcto, Val. Obstinado y oculto. – That is true, Val. Stubborn and blind.

In his office, Jeremy Browne was about done giving his last minute instructions to his deputy. Once he was sure the younger man understood perfectly what was expected of him, he left his office and crossed the dusty street. He still had to head over to the small house the town mayor had provided him with for the duration of his mandate as Sheriff of Bakersfield. He needed to prepare a few things for his trip to Tucson.

On his way there, he stopped at the gunsmiths. He ambled over to the counter and asked for a few boxes of ammunition. One was never too careful and, after all, he was heading into what was sure to be trouble of some sort.

Sure enough, crossing paths with a very young Johnny had left some traces in the way he approached any 'mission' of the type he was about to start. He chuckled quietly as he remembered his encounter with Johnny's friend, Roberto – a general store owner turned gunsmith or the other way around rather. What was it that Roberto had said to him? Ah yes! 'It is always good to have an extra gun, Señor. In particular if you ride with my young friend here. Juanito always has an extra gun or two.' With a chuckle, Jeremy moved over to the glass counter where various guns were showcased and peered at them.

After a careful examination, he chose a few guns and asked to try them. He wanted to make sure they were well balanced and that the fit was right for his hand. He finally chose one of the guns and moved over to the smaller guns section where he also picked a derringer. He disregarded the rifles, having taken one from the collection he had in his office along with a couple of boxes of cartridges. He had however, bought two knives. He left the store an hour after, well equipped to face whatever situation would be thrown at him.

Once outside, he looked at the sky. It was close to six o'clock – too late to start his journey. Besides, he still had to go to his house to get his saddlebags and a few things he presumed he would need. Since he was not in a hurry anymore, he walked slowly toward his house, at the very end of the main street – the last house on the left, as he fondly called it.

Within a few minutes, he arrived at his destination. He took his key from his back pocket, opened the door and stepped in. The interior of the house was surprisingly cozy for a place where a man was living alone. But, although he wasn't too particular about his clothes, Jeremy liked it when his house was clean. Even his office was cleaner than most Sheriff's offices. He made a point of having both cleaned regularly. In fact, he was paying a young widow who was coming every other week to clean both his house and his office, along with the cells area.

His little house only had three rooms – a living room, a kitchen with a small dining table and a couple of chairs and a bedroom. Jeremy went over to his bedroom and rummaged in the small wardrobe. He finally pulled out two sets of well-worn saddlebags and threw them on the bed. He walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer and took three shirts. From the next drawer, he got one pair of pants and two pairs of socks and flung them next to the saddlebags.

Finally, sitting on the edge of the bed, he started filling his bags. In one of them, he neatly folded two of the shirts and a pair of socks along with some bandages and an emergency medical kit. The other bag was where he stored his spare boxes of bullets –those for his guns, his derringer and his rifle along with one of the knives. Once this was done, he carried the saddlebag over to the small table near the window and left it open for a last check in the morning. He also put the other knife on the table – he would hide that one in a sheath in one of his boots before leaving the next morning.

Next, he grabbed the last shirt, the pants and the other pair of socks and put them over the back of the chair by the table. He would change into them come morning. He carried the second saddlebag to the kitchen where he left it on the table. He would fill it with beef jerky, canned beans and coffee and his cooking gear along with a small leather pouch containing a good supply of matches.

Once satisfied that he had prepared everything he could for the moment, he left his house and went to his favourite little Mexican dining place to enjoy a nice dinner – his last "real" dinner for a while. After tonight, he'd be on the road and might not have the luxury of enjoying anything too fancy.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

And Val stepped back, letting the boy do what he must, letting him keep his face A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 18

Johnny leaned back against the wall of his cell. 'Damn. Why didn't I tell Scott and Murdoch? Why did I pull that stupid stunt? See where it led me? Back to square one… that's where! It's as simple as that. Me and my damn pride.'

He closed his eyes; hoping sleep would claim him but to no avail. Sleep kept eluding him. His mind was in turmoil, as there seemed to be no way out of this one. No hope… no one to ride to his rescue this time, certainly no Pinkerton's agent – twice in a matter of a couple of years would be a little too much to hope for, wouldn't it? Hope, he needed something to hold onto. He let his mind drift… back to better memories…

Twice again, during the night, the two lovers had made love, taking the time to discover what gave pleasure to the other and to explore every part of their bodies. Johnny had taken Tierra on a ride she would not forget any time soon. As exhausted as they both were, at four in the morning, she had discreetly left Johnny's room to return to her room. She would have liked to stay with him, to sleep and wake up beside him, but she knew she should be in her own bedroom come morning.

She certainly couldn't risk her father's wrath. She had no intention of going back to Spain and was determined to stand up to him if it ever came to that, were he to find out what she had done.

Although she felt her father was far from being averse to the young Lancer, she didn't wish to play with fire. And God knew she had already done enough of that during the torrid night she had spent with Johnny.

She hadn't thought it possible, but she had fallen in love with the young man as soon as she had seen him, when he had come into the stage depot the day before. Was it only yesterday? She felt as if she'd known him much longer than that.

They had talked too, between their lovemaking sessions. They had opened their hearts to each other and she knew, she just knew, he was the one. She hoped he was feeling the same, too, because she couldn't imagine her life without him now. Oh, she was perfectly aware that for him, maybe she would end up being only one more conquest. But she doubted it, somehow, not after the conversation they had. Love at first sight, ha! A few months ago, she would have laughed in the face of whoever told her she would experience that feeling. With Johnny in mind, Tierra went back to sleep for a couple more hours.

At six-thirty, she woke up with a start. She had to relieve the night clerk at seven and she couldn't afford to be late. Tierra hurriedly went to the washstand and poured water from the pitcher that was standing beside the basin. While she performed her morning ablutions, she wondered how she would react to Johnny's presence when he came down from his room. Would she be able to pretend nothing had ever happened between the two of them or would she blush so furiously that her face would betray her thoughts and her feelings? How would he react for that matter?

What she really felt like doing was climbing up on the roof and shouting to the entire world that she was in love with the handsomest man she had ever seen. She smiled to herself. Her girlfriends would all be jealous if they knew what had transpired between her and Johnny, even those that were married – particularly those.

Still thinking about her first night, she quickly put on a dark green skirt with a matching white and green blouse. She brushed her long hair and braided it. Then, she hurriedly left her room, located in the oldest aisle of the hotel and made her way to the front area.

Murdoch woke up after a much needed restful night. He had not realized how exhausted he was, what with him feeling so anxious about his younger son. This boy would be the death of him. If at all possible, he was more worried about him now than he had been when Johnny was a two-year old toddler running all over the place.

In the last few days, he had met with people who knew Johnny before his return to the ranch. These people only had good things to say about him even though the man they had met was the notorious gunfighter. They had even befriended him. What was it that drew people to his son like bees to honey? How could he have been so blind as to miss the gentle nature of the boy?

Once again, he promised himself that he would right all the wrongs where this son of his was concerned. They would talk about the past, both their pasts. Besides, he needed to address Maria's death and what she had told his son. He was aware the boy never looked for him because he believed that he, Murdoch, had thrown both his mama and him out. But that didn't explain why Johnny had turned to the gun as a way of living. He needed to know what had happened to send the boy on that road. He even needed to have a long talk with Scott as well. Both boys needed to be told about their mothers and their father. Yes, once they found Johnny, he would talk with them.

Scott and Val were already outside, saddling their horses and making idle conversation as they did. Both were rested and eager to continue their journey.

Murdoch joined them, wondering why they had let him sleep that late. It was already past nine o'clock and the more they waited, the more Johnny would be hard to reach. The older man was a bit pissed off and he glared at them once he got near them.

The two younger men didn't miss his look and Scott stopped him right in his tracks.

"You needed it, Murdoch."

"He's right, Mr. Lancer. You were exhausted yesterday. Don't try to deny it."

"Maybe. But, still, that puts us further behind Johnny."

"We're already a long way behind as it is, Murdoch. So, shall we have breakfast and then say our goodbyes to these good people and be on our way?"

"Yes. I suppose it would be rude if we were to just leave," the older man finally responded.

Less than half an hour later, the three men were mounted and ready to leave. They spurred their horses on the road leading to Los Angeles.

Jeremy woke up with the sun. Within half an hour he was ready to leave. Last evening, he had prepared everything he needed with the exception of the last minute stuff, namely his shaving kit and a final check to make sure he didn't forget anything.

He walked to the livery and retrieved his horse from the stall reserved for the town sheriff. Jeremy left him in the care of the liveryman who saddled him while he went to see his deputy one last time.

He found the young man fast asleep on his chair. Jeremy closed the door with a loud thump and the chair went down spiralling as the young deputy scrambled to his feet.

"Is this how you hold the fort, young man?"

"I… I'm sorry Sheriff. I had a rough night and I guess I just fell asleep."

"A rough night? How so?"

"Had to drag Jimmy Smith into a cell. Trouble in the saloon again."

Jeremy looked at his young deputy and laughed.

"I guess he kept you awake all night, huh?"

"Yeah, he did. I was planning to let him go after lunch. Get him to eat a little something, you know, before sending him home."

"You're a good man, Bobby. But don't let anybody sucker you in. You need to harden yourself a bit," Jeremy told him as he patted his shoulder. "I'm on my way now. You know what my plans are. If you need anything, you send a wire to the next town I'll be heading to. I'll check at the telegraph office in each of those towns."

"Yes, sir! Don't worry, everything will be fine."

"I know, I know. Take care, Bobby," Jeremy said, smiling.

Jeremy was still smiling as he left the office. He knew the young man was considering him his idol. The Sheriff, then still an agent of the government, had taken a young Bobby under his wing after finding him injured in a back alley in a godforsaken dirty little town. He had been on his way to Arizona City, a few months after his encounter with an even younger Johnny Madrid. He was still feeling bad about his failure to convince the young pistolero that he was hell bent for nowhere. He saw Bobby as a chance to do something for a helpless young kid, one that hadn't the guts Madrid had but one who was willing to listen and be rescued.

So it was that he had taught Bobby a few things about what was right and what was wrong. It was just the natural way of things that when Jeremy turned lawman, young Bobby had followed suit and became a deputy.

He shook his head. He needed a clear mind in order to go after Johnny. Together with Val and Johnny's father and brother, they had agreed they would meet in Tucson. The Lancers and Val had gone by way of Tejon Pass heading to Los Angeles and San Diego. He would go by the Tehachapi Pass and head over to the Mohave Desert and from there, to his destination as quickly as he could.

Tierra knew it as soon as Johnny made his way down the stairs. She only had to look in the mirror standing at the bottom of the stairs, on the opposite wall, to see the hotel's guests coming down. Actually, that's what she had been doing regularly for the last hour or so.

She suddenly felt apprehensive. Now that they were in broad daylight, what would he think of her? She knew she had been foolish to go to him like she had. Oh, he had tried to stop her but, in the end, he had been as willing as she had been. What would he think of her now?

Johnny was aware of her eyes on him as he descended the stairs. It both unnerved him and pleased him. He was definitely attracted to her. He would be lying were he to say he hadn't thought about just leaving and forgetting about the night they had together. But he was honest enough with himself to realize he had had something special – no, THEY had had something special. 'Guess I'm in love for real, this time,' he thought as he made his way to the counter.

"Buonos dias, Señorita Medina."

"Buonos dias, Señor Lancer," she answered in the same manner, her eyes full of questions. Johnny sounded so formal. Had she only represented a one-night conquest for him or had she been more than that?

"You're working here today?"

"Yes, as you can see."

"All day?" he asked, putting one hand casually on the counter while he took the bell in his other hand and started to play with it.

"Why are you asking?"

"Well, I thought maybe we could… go some place, you know. Before I take the stage this afternoon."

Tierra smiled at him and noticed his eyes were dancing. She felt a slight blush creeping up on her face.

"Oh! That can be arranged," she said, trying to contain the excitement she was feeling.

"How quickly?"

"Very quickly… Meet me in an hour, down at the livery."

"For a ride?"

"Si, for a ride. We can have a picnic down by the lake. I know a very nice spot."

"I'll be there, Querida," Johnny said.

Johnny exited the hotel feeling as if he was walking on a cloud. Dios! Was this how it felt being in love, truly in love? Well, if this was what it was like, then, he definitely liked the feeling. He had an hour to kill, just enough time to make a little errand and get ready for their ride.

The three men were riding abreast at a regular pace with Murdoch in the middle. The elder Lancer wanted to go at a gallop for a while but, luckily for him, two strong-minded young men accompanied him and they both stopped him from doing something they felt was stupid. They knew his back wouldn't cope with a faster pace than what they were going at.

The older rancher was none too happy with the situation but knew they were right. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Los Angeles would probably be his last stop for a little while. He knew it and they knew it. Murdoch was sure they were expecting him to act like his stubborn self and refuse to listen to reason. However, for the sake of not further delaying finding his younger son, he, for once, would be agreeable and stay behind.

They had been traveling for a couple of hours on a relatively easy trail, and already they would have to stop, mainly for him to rest a bit. His back was hurting like hell. The pain was going right down his leg and was becoming almost intolerable.

Johnny was waiting for Tierra at the livery. To pass the time, he had already saddled Shadow, a second horse for the girl and one for Mara as he was sure she would be accompanying them. He was secretly glad to take one last ride with his horse but he would have been even happier if Mara were not there. He didn't need anybody to witness what he had planned to do with Tierra.

About ten minutes after he had finished saddling the three horses, the two ladies he was waiting for arrived. He had no doubt that the baskets that both were carrying were filled with food. After all, Tierra had mentioned a picnic. He greeted them and helped them mount and settle on their respective horses. After fixing the two small baskets securely, he also mounted his horse.

"You lead the way," he told Tierra. "You're the one who knows where we're going."

They rode at a fast pace for about thirty minutes then they reduced the pace of their horses. In the distance, Johnny could see the blueness of a lake, its water shining under the bright sun.

"That where we're going?" he asked.

"Si. There's a nice beach and some secluded spots. It will be quiet there," answered Tierra.

"Yeah! About that, I was hoping…"

"Don't worry," Tierra said, smiling mischievously. "Mara is not coming with us. She will remain a little further away, on another part of the beach, just in case. There's only going to be you and I…"

Johnny gave her a very bright smile. "You're a girl after my own heart, Querida."

The two young people laughed as they headed to their part of the beach, near those secluded spots Tierra had mentioned while Mara went her own way. Tierra knew her cousin wasn't too happy with this but she had convinced her that nothing she did not want to happen would happen. Mara had shaken her head saying 'Your father will kill me if he finds out.' To which Tierra had retorted 'He won't. And even if he does find out, I don't care… Johnny is the one, Mara. He is. I just know it.'

Tierra knew Mara would not continue to argue as her cousin had confided in her many times that she would like it if a handsome man would come and snatch her away. Mara thought that because she was afflicted with a limp, no man would want her other than to have quick sex – which she already had had a few times while Tierra was watching her back. She would be envious of Tierra but she would not betray her. She was simply returning the favor.

Soon, the two young lovers reached the beach. They dismounted and led their horses over to a stand of trees where they hitched them after unsaddling them. Then, hand in hand, they walked in silence near the riverbank. They sat and without consulting with each other, they both removed their riding boots and socks and let their feet dangle in the cool water.

Tierra looked at Johnny sideways and started splashing her feet in the water, harder and harder. Soon, both were standing knee deep in the water and acting like 10-years old kids playing in the water, splashing each other with their hands and feet, running in the river. In a matter of minutes they were dripping wet and they climbed back on the riverbank.

"Huh, we're all wet, Querida!" Johnny said sheepishly.

"I know. We can't go back to town like this now, can we?"

"Nope."

"What do you suggest?"

"Ladies first? What do you suggest?"

"Oh! I don't know. How about shedding our clothes and spread them on those rocks over there."

"Just to let them dry, right?"

"Naturally, what are you thinking Mr. Lancer?"

Johnny looked at her. Her eyes were shining and she was starting to blush. He glanced at the sun… and figured they still had another two hours before they had to head back to town. He smiled knowingly.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

And Val stepped back, letting the boy do what he must, letting him keep his face A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 19

Once again, Johnny shivered as he wondered what time it was. The cell he had been thrown into had no window, making it impossible for him to discern whether it was daytime or nighttime. The dampness pervading the walls and the ground beneath him made the cell look more like a dungeon than anything else and was leaving him chilled to the bones. He tried to control the tremors coursing through his body, but it wasn't working, even when he used the breathing control techniques the old Tigua shaman had taught him. He finally gave up and sat with his left shoulder propped up against the wall.

His back hurt so much that he surprised himself by wishing someone would come to clean the wounds and relieve the pain he felt. He didn't even know how long he'd been lying in this cell as no one had come to him since his confinement – at least, not when he had been awake.

He still had no idea why they had flogged him the way they had. He had always thought he could trust them. He had, in the past… they had even saved his life a few years ago. Why the change of heart? What had he done or not done? He racked his brain, trying to figure it out, but he couldn't see anything, unless they were somehow blaming him for the failed revolution.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes and let his mind take him back to the last few hours he had spent in Los Angeles. He finally fell into a slumber thinking of Tierra and how he would present the situation to his family, if he managed to get out of this predicament alive. He saw her as clearly as if she was right beside him and, in a way, it comforted him.

#

Tierra was sitting between Johnny's legs and he was brushing her long hair. They were dressed although their clothes were still a little damp here and there. Both were smiling the smiles of people fully satisfied. They were not speaking, not yet. Simply, they were enjoying each other's presence.

Soon, however, they would have to head back to Los Angeles and he would leave. Johnny knew he had to make a move before he left. And now he felt it was time.

"I have to leave, Tierra. I don't want to, but I have to. You understand that, don't you?"

"Will you come back?"

"I'm planning to."

"Why must you go? I have a bad feeling, Johnny. Don't leave, please, don't."

"I have to. If I don't answer my friends' call for help, I will never be able to look at myself again. It's a question of honor, Tierra. I have to go to them."

"Then, be careful! And come back to me."

"I promise. I'll do everything I can to come back. I… Tierra, te amo!"

"You do? Really? Or was I just a passing fancy for you?" she finally asked, gathering her courage. As she spoke, she turned and looked into his eyes, watching the play of emotions passing through them.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it at first. But, I've fallen in love with you, Tierra. What I feel for you, what's here in my heart… well, I've never felt that way before."

Johnny then took a deep breath and he reached into the pocket of his jacket. He retrieved a small box and played with it a bit before finally handing it to her.

Tierra took it reverently. She was suddenly afraid to open it and look at what was inside. Johnny was smiling; his eyes were sparkling with mischief mixed with something else. So Tierra finally opened it.

Inside was a lovely silver chain and attached to it, Johnny's ring. The young woman gasped and looked at her lover. His smile had disappeared as he held his breath.

"Oh! Johnny! This is… this is…"

"You like it?" he asked, relief clearly showing in his voice.

"Oh yes! This is beautiful. But, I can't accept it. This ring, it's a family ring, isn't it?"

"It is and I want you to have it, Tierra. It's only right that you should. I'm serious about us. Here, let me put it around your neck."

Johnny took the chain and passed it around his lover's neck. Then he enfolded her in his strong arms. They stayed that way for a few minutes until they heard a discreet cough. Mara was beside them with the three horses all saddled and ready to go.

The two young people got up and looked at her, both blushing. But Mara only laughed.

"We should get back," she simply said as she motioned for them to mount up.

Johnny and Tierra rode abreast while Mara stayed slightly behind. The ride back to Los Angeles was done in silence only broken at times by the two young lovers whispering words of endearment to each other.

#

Mara deliberately stayed sufficiently far away from Tierra and Johnny so as to give them some privacy, knowing instinctively she had no business hearing whatever they were telling each other. However, she was perfectly aware she never should have allowed them out of her sight at the beach, particularly when she knew what had transpired between the young people the night before. But, she sensed those two had something special going and she had not wanted to spoil it for them. Tierra had told her Johnny was the one she had always been waiting for and Mara hoped the boy was feeling the same for her young cousin. If not, she would have to find a way to mend a broken heart.

She fervently hoped her uncle would never get to know what had happened between his daughter and the young son of Murdoch Lancer – and her part in it. If he found out about his daughter's dalliance, he'd be bound to send both of them back to Spain and this was something she wanted to avoid at all cost. She resolutely shut that thought out of her mind and hurried her horse so she would be right beside them for the last stretch into town, for the sake of proper behavior.

Soon they were back at the livery where they unsaddled their horses. Once again, Johnny bid farewell to Shadow, reminding the owner of the livery about sending his horse back to Lancer. Then, he returned to the hotel with the two young women to retrieve his saddlebags, and pay his bill. He was left with only a half-hour to spend before leaving on the stage. With Mara by their side, Johnny took Tierra's hand and they walked to the stage depot.

Hidden behind the curtains of his office window, Señor Medina watched them and smiled, pleased to see that they seemed to be getting along well. Murdoch Lancer was both a customer and a friend, albeit not a close one. He certainly wouldn't mind if his daughter and the successful rancher's younger son were to pursue a relationship. He thought the fact both kids were of mixed blood might make it easier for them. And a boy as wild as he knew Johnny Madrid Lancer to be was just what his daughter needed as the young man would know how to deal with her.

Just like Murdoch had, Alejandro had married a young woman of another country. Tierra's mother had been a young aristocrat from a well-to-do Basque family on the French side of the frontier with Spain. Their marriage had been the result of a business alliance between two powerful families – the Cazenave from Southern France and the Medina, from Granada. He had fallen madly in love with his young wife and when she had died, after giving birth to their stillborn son, he had been devastated. In an attempt to escape the memories both Spain and France held for him, he had decided to travel to the New World accompanied by his daughter, his older brother, Arturo, his wife and their thirteen year old daughter, Mara.

With the money they had taken with them, Alejandro had bought a hotel and Arturo had acquired a partnership in the stage depot to end up sole owner a couple of years after. Tierra had been five years old at the time and she had adapted remarkably fast to her new life. As years went by, Alejandro experienced more and more problems with Tierra. She had a mind of her own and was very much like her mother – a free spirit confined in a woman's body.

He had already sent her packing back to Spain once a few years ago when he had found her with a young American in the back alley behind the hotel. The boy was not what he had considered a good match for his daughter. But, Murdoch's younger son was another story altogether.

Alejandro was aware of Johnny's past as a gunfighter. Who wasn't? It was now common knowledge even in this part of California. He had also heard that the young man had a tendency to help people in need. It pleased him to see this trait of character in a young man who had spent all his childhood and his teens trying to survive in a harsh world. To him, it proved the boy had guts and could overcome almost anything life would throw his way – no matter how dark his life had been, the misdeeds he had done, the killings and all, the boy had a good heart.

So, seeing his beloved Tierra and Johnny being visibly attracted to one another was enough for him. Without knowing what had happened between the two, Alejandro sensed in his heart that when Johnny would return from his trip, he would seek him out. He might make it a little difficult for them, but in the end, he would give the young couple his blessings. He wanted so much for his Tierra.

#

Jeremy Browne had been riding at a very good pace, resting whenever he felt the need for both his mount and himself. He would have liked to have a companion to ride with him, but at the same time, riding alone was a blessing of sort. He was free to let his mind wander a bit, while paying attention to his surroundings, without having to answer to questions like 'What are you thinking about?'

Not for the first time since he'd committed himself to helping the Lancers and Val, he wondered what predicament Johnny would find himself in this time. Whenever he had met with the young gunfighter, he had found that nothing was ever easy where this boy was concerned. Always, trouble would find a way to reach him, whether he was looking for it or not.

Jeremy and Johnny had kept in touch through the years, sometimes riding together for a few weeks, and other times simply meeting in a saloon or at Jeremy's place to chat. True to his words, the young gunfighter had sought him out whenever he had been drifting on the American side of the border. The boy always seemed to know where to find him but had never been willing to tell Jeremy how he knew it, saying it was his "little secret" although the sheriff suspected Roberto had something to do with it. He remembered fondly their second to last encounter, a year or so before Johnny went back to Mexico to take part in the revolution.

Jeremy, along with four men, were sitting around a table in the overcrowded saloon of Sasabe, in Arizona, just across the border with Mexico. They were playing a heavy game of poker. A half empty bottle of whisky stood on his right side and as he was about to pour a glass for himself he noticed the sudden silence that had descended on the place. Both he and his left hand neighbor – an unshaved man in shabby clothes who looked to be in his early thirties – exchanged a glance and instinctively moved their chairs a little away from the table so that they could get to their guns quickly if need be.

The object of the strong feeling of unease turned out to be a very young man with his gun tied low on his right thigh. He was dressed in a dusty pair of dark brown pants and what used to be a white shirt with black patterns along the front, which was now covered with dirt and what looked like dried blood on one sleeve. Both Jeremy and his friend gasped aloud when they recognized him, even with his hat pulled low to partially cover his eyes, and smiled at each other. They relaxed fractionally and waited to see what would happen as they saw the visibly underage boy make his way to the bar and spoke to the bartender.

The man at the bar shook his head and showed the door to the boy. Jeremy and his friend had, by now, gotten up and moved nearer to the bar, ready to intervene should the need arise – and they knew it would, considering that this particular young man and trouble seemed to go hand in hand more often then not.

Naturally, the boy refused to budge and as soon as he had pushed his hat off his head to let it hang onto his back, the bartender started sweating. He knew now exactly who he was facing. Nonetheless, he reiterated his request that the boy leave the premises or he would call the law – which he did as soon as the young gunfighter leant on the counter and grabbed him by his collar.

In this instance, the law had been none other than Jeremy, who was acting as temporary lawman, and his friend. They had taken position on each side of the young gunfighter, almost squeezing him between them. The boy, without releasing his hold on the bartender, glanced in the mirror, grinned and said, "Howdy, Amigos. I don't want any trouble, just something to drink."

"How about you let Fred go and then you follow us outside, Johnny. You're still underage, you know."

"Ah! Come on, Jeremy, I'm almost twenty-one and I'm thirsty. You wouldn't let me die of thirst now, would you?" the young gunfighter answered, grinning even more as he let the bartender go.

"Fred, don't give him anything else than a lemonade!" said the other man. "As I see, you still don't know how to count. In my book, you're no older than 18, boy, considering you were barely 15 when I met you three years ago."

"That you, Val? I wouldn't have recognized you under all that hair. Are you trying to look more appealing to women or what? Because if you do, I'm not sure it's going to work."

Val sighed and spinning his young friend around, escorted him out of the saloon while Jeremy reassured Fred, who by now was shaking like a leaf, counting himself lucky to be still alive. Knowing Fred would embellish the story of his encounter with such a dangerous man as Johnny Madrid to whoever would be willing to listen to his rambles, Jeremy couldn't help but chuckle as he exited the saloon to join his two friends.

The three of them made their way to the small house Jeremy and Val were sharing. Once they were comfortably settled inside, Val opened a brand new bottle of tequila and poured each a glass. They ended up spending a few hours drinking, talking and laughing together.

"So, what brings you here, Johnny Boy?" asked Val.

"Business of some sort."

"I see you've encountered some problems along the way," added Jeremy, pointing to Johnny's left arm.

"Oh that? It's nothing, really. I met with an old friend of mine and we sort of didn't see eye to eye. He stabbed me and I stabbed him. He won't bother anyone anymore."

"Who?" was all Val said, noting the lack of emotion in the boy's eyes and being a bit frightened by it.

"Remember Noriega?"

Val nodded, sighing slightly while Jeremy raised an eyebrow. On the best of days, Noriega was bad news. He was the kind of man who wouldn't hesitate to kill his own mother were she to stand in his way. Val knew it. Johnny knew it. No wonder the boy dispatched him when the occasion presented itself.

"I've been working at Rancho Oro Blanco for a few weeks, breaking horses. Needed to keep a low profile for a bit. He followed me when I left. I guess he wanted the money Señor Alvarado had given me for my work."

"And you refused to give it to him, naturally."

Johnny grinned broadly. "Naturally. Told him it wasn't mine to give but that didn't deter him."

"Why knives? Why not guns?" Val interrupted once again.

"We were near a Rurales outpost. We did agree on one thing and it was not to attract the attention of El Capitán's men."

"You're still playing dirty tricks on him?" Jeremy said as he helped Johnny out of his shirt to look at the knife wound. He had to wet the shirt as it was firmly stuck to the wound on his arm.

"Hey, be careful, that hurts!"

"That's why I wanted to have a look, stupid boy. This is slightly infected. You should know better, Johnny. For God's sake, when are you going to start taking care of yourself?"

Jeremy was spitting mad. He'd never understand the boy. He continued his ministrations and cleaned the wound as best he could and stitched it while Johnny kept his head down.

Once it was done, the boy tentatively looked at his friend and smiled a little. "To answer your other question, yeah, I'm still at it with El Capitán."

"That doesn't explain what you're doing here? We haven't heard of any range war nearby. So, where were you heading to?" Val asked again.

"Mission San Antonio. Padre Miguel needs supplies and money."

"Don't tell me he's desperate enough to accept blood money from a renowned gunfighter such as yourself?" Val said, chuckling.

"Are you kidding? He would never take it. No, I'm gonna give him the money I made at Rancho Oro Blanco."

"All of it?"

"Most of it… I guess I'll need to take some to buy myself a new shirt, seeing that Señor Gringo here has all but destroyed mine."

They lapsed into silence for a minute or two and Johnny spoke again. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you ride with me? I could use the company of a friend or two."

Johnny looked at his friends expectantly, so much so that both burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"You… asking for company. You getting soft or what?" Val asked.

Val and Jeremy were both looking at their young friend, seeing the play of emotions on his face that he didn't even bother to hide from them anymore. They knew he felt safe enough in their company to let go and be just a young boy eager to be with some of his friends.

"I can't leave, Johnny. But Val can go with you. I can manage without him for a few days."

Johnny's smile was all that was needed. Within minutes, Val was ready to go to hell for his pal.

Jeremy was sitting on a rocking chair outside of his office a few days later when he saw Val riding back… alone. As Val dismounted in front of him and tied his horse to the hitching rail, he asked, "Where's our boy?"

"Still at the mission, being lectured by Father Miguel."

"Being lectured? Are you kidding?" asked Jeremy, chuckling. "Who else in his right mind would dare lecture someone like Johnny Madrid?"

Val laughed and sat down on the other chair beside his friend. "Yeah. I don't know many aside from you, me and the good Father." Then, he sighed, pressed his fingers on his temples and dropped his head, looking at his hands now resting on his lap.

"What's eating at you, Amigo?"

"He wants to head west and deal with his old man," Val responded, raising his head to look at Jeremy. He was worried and it showed plainly on his face.

"Don't tell me he finally opened up and disclosed the name of his father?"

"You crazy? Nah, he hasn't but, let me tell you my friend, I intend to find out who the man is and…"

"And what, Val? Stop Johnny from doing something we both know is stupid? You know damn well that when this boy's got something on his mind, he stops at nothing."

"Johnny's got killing on his mind. He said he wants to make the old man pay for what he's done to his mother and him. Said it's time he pays him a visit and puts a bullet between his eyes. And I just can't let him to this. It would turn him into a cold-blooded killer and he ain't one. It would destroy him completely, push him over the edge."

"Then, he knows where his father is."

"Yeah, somewhere in California. Said he's always known."

"So, when are you leaving?"

Val smiled. "You know me too well, Señor Gringo."

Jeremy burst out laughing, holding his sides upon hearing the name Johnny gave him. "It comes with years of experience. You'll get there, eventually! When do you want to leave?"

"Just about now. I'm to meet him at the crossroad in a couple of hours. You mind?"

"No. Go with him, talk to him and make him understand this would be the biggest mistake of his life. I wish I could go but my replacement still hasn't showed up. Go and make sure you let me know what's going on. I care too much about that crazy boy. I just wish he'd let us help him, trust us enough to confide in us."

"He does… trust us I mean. He wouldn't keep looking for us whenever he's on this side of the border if he didn't. Well, I better get going. I'll keep in touch. Adios!"

Within minutes, Val was gone and Jeremy stayed in Sasabe, wondering if he would ever see their young friend again.

Jeremy knew Johnny had always been unable to say «No» to whoever asked for his help, particularly poor people in need. It seemed that even the revolution fiasco hadn't been enough to stop him from doing so as obviously Johnny was once again heading straight into trouble. Jeremy had to help, no matter what the cost. Shaking the memories out of his head, he resumed his journey – he needed to get to Tucson as quickly as possible and he still had a long way to go.

#

The two lovers had reached the stage depot and while Mara went inside, they remained on the boardwalk, staying as close as they dared to be in public. Within minutes, the stage arrived and stopped a few feet from them. While most of the passengers stepped off to leave their place to the travelers who were starting their trip toward San Diego, Johnny and Tierra stood, eyes locked, a myriad of unspoken feelings passing between them.

Soon, Johnny was the only remaining passenger and everybody was waiting for him to board the coach. Tierra suddenly hugged him fiercely and he had to tear himself away from her. He gave her a lingering kiss under the watchful eyes of Mara who had come back and stood beside her cousin.

"Take care of yourself, Johnny. I'll be waiting for you."

"I'll be back as quickly as I can. Don't worry, Querida," he answered, smiling. "Adiós, Mara. Take good care of her for me, will you?"

"I will. Now, go… Everybody's waiting for you."

Johnny blushed slightly, realizing he was in fact stopping the stage from leaving. He climbed in; taking a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the dimness of the place and finally chose a seat near the window. He stuck his head out of the window and blew a kiss to his lover and waved at her. Both Tierra and Mara waved back and stayed glued to the spot while the stage left.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

And Val stepped back, letting the boy do what he must, letting him keep his face A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 20

Johnny wasn't really looking forward to this part of his trip. He hated being crowded in and having to leave his gun with the driver – he'd always felt naked without his gun. That's one of the reasons why he had taken the habit of carrying his Colt plus a derringer, besides his knife that he kept concealed in a sheath in his right boot. That way, no matter what happened on the road, he wouldn't be left unarmed. He was glad, however, that this particular stage he was taking his place in was huge. Actually, it could easily accommodate nine people. So far, there were only five of them. He was sure, though, other passengers would join them as they progressed toward their destination.

His fellow passengers consisted of a priest, a young couple with their small daughter and a businessman all dressed up who reminded him of his brother. He was as tall and as slim as Scott was but with reddish blond hair and hazel eyes. Johnny smiled at the memory. Boy had he been mistaken where Scott was concerned.

Upon first learning the young dandy he had traveled with was his half-brother, his eyes had lit up and he had smiled mockingly. It had taken all of the young gunfighter's willpower not to laugh out loud right in the dandy's face. Where the hell was he coming from and why was he dressed like he was? And what about those suitcases? How a man could travel with so many would always be beyond his comprehension – personally, he preferred to travel light and besides he doubted he would ever have that many possessions. However, it didn't take him long to figure this particular brother's appearance was deceiving – after all, the man had indeed saved his life and he sure knew how to use a rifle.

Now, he was glad he had stayed and taken the time to know Scott. First, they had become friends and then, the more they spent time together, the more the blood they shared meant something. Johnny often wondered how close they would have become had they always lived together.

He shook his head. No, he couldn't afford to let his mind take him to those two years he'd spent getting to know his newfound family, learning the ropes of handling the day-to-day operation of a ranch as big as the one they owned. Still, the fact he had left without letting them know was niggling at him. Maybe he should have sent them a wire before leaving Los Angeles. But what was done was done and now was the time for him to start planning. He couldn't possibly enter a hostile territory without preparation of some sort.

Satisfied that his scrutiny of his fellow passengers didn't indicate any threat, he settled down comfortably and lowered his hat onto his eyes. To all the others, he would appear to be sleeping and that's what he wanted them to believe. That would leave him free to think without having to make polite conversation with them.

/ / / / /

What just happened was bound to happen. They knew it, but still, they had foolishly thought they would have had time to reach Los Angeles before it did. But no, they were not that lucky. Murdoch's back had given out almost as soon as they had stopped and dismounted to give their horses a break. An hour later and they were still waiting for him to be able to ride again.

Scott was now sitting on the ground, close to his father, and at a loss as to what he could do to help him. There they were, in the middle of a deserted road, still a few hours away from their destination. And judging from the lines of pain that marred his father's face, they were not about to get there anytime soon.

Val was pacing back and forth, a few feet from them. Wishing he could continue on his own but knowing Johnny would never forgive him were he to abandon Murdoch to his fate, the sheriff felt totally helpless. He owed it to his young friend to at least get the Lancer patriarch safely to Los Angeles. Finally, he reached a decision and stopped his angry pacing in front of Scott and Murdoch, slumping down on the hard ground almost at their feet.

"Seems to me we don't have many options."

"You have a plan, Val?" asked Scott.

"I can ride a little further ahead. If my memory serves me right, there are a couple of small farms a few miles down the road. Maybe I could borrow a wagon and come back for you."

Murdoch bowed his head in shame. Because of his misplaced stubbornness, they were losing precious time – hours that could make the difference between life and death for his younger son. The older man had finally reached the point where he could admit to himself, and maybe even to others, that he never should have embarked on this journey.

"How about you two go after Johnny and I'll follow whenever I can?"

Scott gasped. As much as he wanted to get going, he would never leave his father alone in the wilderness, unable to fend for himself. Besides, Johnny wouldn't thank him if something happened to their father. His younger brother was being very protective of "his" Old Man lately. Scott was about to answer back when Val beat him to it.

"That's not an option, Mr. Lancer."

"Why not? You could leave me a message someplace we can agree about in Los Angeles."

"You see, I'm not really interested in finding myself facing the business end of Johnny's gun."

Scott grinned. Count on Val to come up with such a reason.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of my little brother?"

"Your brother, no… but Johnny Madrid, yeah. Well, at least a little," Val answered, grinning like an idiot, which made Scott snicker.

"We'll lose time…" Murdoch started to say.

"We've already lost time as it is. At least by now Jeremy is on his way to Tucson. He'll watch for Johnny from there and your son will have one friend close by. If need be, Jeremy will cross over to Mexico before we get there. He'll find out where our boy went and will protect him, if he can."

Val got up and continued. "Seriously, you need to rest a bit more. I'll be back soon."

"He's right, Murdoch. Let's not argue anymore. This isn't getting us anywhere," Scott said, patting his father's forearm as he also got up. "Val, I'll walk with you to the stream."

Once the two young men were far enough so Murdoch couldn't hear them, Val sighed.

"Scott, once we reach town, we'll have to leave him behind. We can't go on like this. We'll never be able to catch up with Johnny if we keep being delayed this way."

"I know. I'll talk to him while you're gone. I'll convince him."

"Yeah? Well, good luck to you. I've only met one other man as stubborn as your father and that's…"

"… Johnny. Don't I know it, Val. Between the two of them, I just don't know who is the most stubborn," Scott said, raising his eyes to heaven (to the heavens – or heavenward), making Val chuckle.

They were now near their mounts. After Val finished saddling his horse, he vaulted onto the animal's back while Scott took both his father's canteen and his own to refill them at the stream.

"Hasta luego, Amigo." Val said, as he turned his mount and headed down the road. "I'll be back as quickly as I can," he added, turning in his saddle and waving to Scott.

Scott waved back and watched for a few minutes as the sheriff quickly became a small point on the horizon. Then he headed over to the stream to fill the canteens. He took his time, all the while thinking about how he would broach the subject with Murdoch. Fifteen minutes later, he retraced his steps and sat down once again beside the older man.

Murdoch's back was resting against a large boulder and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be sleeping although he clearly wasn't comfortable. Scott took the opportunity to examine his face carefully. His father wasn't really old, not yet, but the harsh life he had led had aged him prematurely. It must have been hard for the man to lose two wives and two sons. No wonder he had put all his energy into building his ranch. It most probably took his mind off the pain he must have experienced. But at night, when everyone was asleep, how did he cope with the loss, the not knowing of Johnny's fate in particular?

Scott knew Murdoch had looked for Johnny and Maria for a while after their disappearance and that he had put the Pinks on it when he couldn't carry on himself. He had also discovered he had come to Boston when Scott was celebrating his fifth birthday. But he wasn't sure of the whole story of his father not taking him back with him that day. This was a sore spot for the young man. After two years of living with Murdoch, it was still a subject that had not been broached by either of them. Scott sighed. He was able to talk about everything and anything with his father. They often discussed politics and debated the work of various authors. But this… Neither seemed to be willing to journey into the past.

The young man knew now that Murdoch Lancer wasn't the cold-hearted selfish bastard his grandfather had described to him. In fact, Murdoch was a good man who cared about others although he had a hard time showing it – particularly where his sons were concerned. Come to think of it, showing their feelings wasn't easy for him or Johnny either. However, sooner or later, they would need to confront their past and clear the air.

The young man smiled as he remembered his first few months in California. Every night, when he came back from a hard day on the range, his thoughts were on Boston. How he missed the place and his friends, those evenings spent watching a play or meeting with lady friends of his acquaintance to have a good time. The drinking and playing cards in some high end clubs where only the members of the high society were allowed.

He almost laughed outright, as an image of his brother came to his mind – all dressed up in one of his fancy Mexican outfits, those that were reserved for very special occasions. The boy would stand out like a sore thumb in such a place, no matter how well he'd be dressed. But frankly, Scott would be proud to introduce his brother to the fine society of Boston – he was worth so much more than those empty-headed snobs who hung around those clubs. And truth be told, as much as he almost regretted his decision to stay back then, now, he wouldn't go back for all the gold in the world. He was where he was supposed to be, alongside his brother. A man he was proud to call friend, partner and brother. Together with their father, they were strengthening their family bond and their land.

Scott shook his head, closing his eyes briefly in the process, while making a motion with his hands as if he was strangling somebody. He hoped they would find Johnny in time. He felt so mad at him that if the boy were not dead by the time they found him, he would kill him himself. The fact that Johnny didn't at least tell HIM he was leaving rubbed on him. He had thought they were past hiding things from one another. Silently, he cursed Fate and its habit of screwing things up for them.

Things had been going so well lately. Johnny seemed to be settling down increasingly faster. Murdoch was even mellowing more and more where his younger son was concerned. Scott was aware the two of them had had some sort of talk a few months back, the last time Johnny had almost bolted in fact, after Murdoch had invited over to dinner a woman friend of his and had announced his intention to court her. All his little brother had told him afterwards was that things were fine but that he wasn't quite ready to discuss what Murdoch and he had talked about just yet. Scott snorted, got up and started pacing in front of his father, unknowingly muttering aloud, cursing his brother, his father, his grandfather and, more specifically, Fate.

Slowly, Murdoch woke up from his slumber. For a moment, he was disoriented but very quickly, he remembered where he was and, as he tried to change position, a hiss of pain escaped his lips. It was loud enough to attract Scott's attention and within seconds, the young man was at his father's side.

"Wh… what's going on?" asked a still somewhat groggy Murdoch.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay. How long did I sleep?"

"About half an hour. How do you feel?"

"I'm fi…"

"Don't give me that bullshit," Scott exclaimed, the anger he had felt minutes earlier coming back with a vengeance, then concern for his father overruling everything else.

Murdoch bristled at first but, seeing the genuine concern on his son's face, he sobered. "I'm sorry, Son. Actually, I don't feel that great. I guess I shouldn't have insisted on undertaking this journey."

"No, you shouldn't! However, who could blame you," Scott said, softly. "You really do care about him, don't you?"

Murdoch smiled sadly and nodded. "I care about both of you. But Johnny… Well, Johnny is… You know, he's so young and yet so old. But sometimes, I feel I have to…"

"… protect him?" Scott added.

Murdoch simply nodded.

"Me too. But, he doesn't really need us protecting him."

"What does he need?"

"To be loved. He craves your love and understanding. He needs you to approve of whatever he's doing. He needs you to be a father to him, not the man who calls the tune. He's worked hard to earn your respect, Murdoch, really hard."

"I know, Scott. He told you that?"

"Yes and no. Let's say that I read between the lines. With him, sometimes it's the only way to learn something. He's adept at hiding his true feelings, particularly when he feels threatened. Once in a while, if you're very careful, if you know what to look for, you can see a glimpse of the boy who is really hiding behind that mask of indifference."

"Sadly, I still can't do that. How do you do it, Scott? How can I make him open up to me? There are so many things I need him to tell me."

"For a start, tell him the truth about you and his mother. I think that will help a lot."

"I know. I'm planning to have a long talk with him… with you, too, as a matter of fact. It might be about time we all confronted the past."

Scott grinned and slapped his father's leg. "More than time, I agree. That being said, Sir, we do need to discuss something."

Murdoch closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "Sure. Go ahead, son."

The young man positioned himself more comfortably and jumped in the water, so to speak.

"It's about how we're doing this. I mean, chasing after Johnny. Sir, what I want to say is…"

"Why are you so nervous, Scott? Just tell me, that's all. Don't beat around the bush like this."

Scott laughed. "You're right, Murdoch. I'm sorry. Val and I talked before he left and we think you can't take the pain any more. How about you stay in Los Angeles and wait for us there while we go after Johnny? We could keep you posted. You know, sending you wires whenever we hit a town with a telegraph office and so on."

Murdoch smiled. "Are you trying to get rid of your Old Man?"

"No. No, Sir, it's not that… It's just that…"

"You feel that you're being delayed and can't search for your brother as quickly as you would like to, right?"

Scott bowed his head, suddenly ashamed. He had no right to ask Murdoch to stop searching, no right to stop a father from finding his missing child, and certainly not when the missing child in question happens to be missing for the second time.

"I… We…" he started to say just to be interrupted by his father's raised hand.

"Scott, I may be stubborn to a fault but I'm not stupid. I know I'm putting all of us behind and I have already decided Los Angeles will be where I'll stop. You're right. My back can't take this kind of trip anymore. In fact, I should have quit when we were in Bakersfield, but I wanted to at least try. You understand?"

"Yes, Sir. I… Val and I will do everything in our power to find him and bring him back."

/ / / / /

Val felt elated. At last, after riding for about forty-five minutes, he had come across one of those farms he remembered from his previous stay in the area. Within a half hour of his arrival, he had explained the situation to the owner and was on his way back with a fully cushioned wagon and a couple of men who had agreed to accompany him and the Lancers down to Los Angeles and then bring back the wagon to the farm.

As they rode back, his thoughts took him back to his young friend and that fateful day when their paths had crossed for the first time and their story had almost ended in a the dusty street of a more than poor Mexican border town.

/

It had been a close call. After the smoke from the gunfight and the dust had cleared, Val saw that the boy that called himself Johnny Madrid was still lying in the street. In a few long strides, Val was hovering right above the boy who was looking around them, gun still in his hand, making sure there was no more danger. Then, the boy raised his head and looked at him.

Val found himself staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen – a half-breed, he realized sadly. He knew how hard life was for mixed-blood kids. More often than not, they were despised, treated like dirt, unwanted by both sides. No wonder the boy was so intent on making a name and garner up some respect, or fear in that case, from his peers.

"You okay?" he asked, smiling at the boy.

"Yeah! Mostly," the boy answered, a shy smile turning the corner of his mouth up.

"Here, let me help you up."

"No! I can… I can make it."

Val stepped back. True to his words, the boy managed to get up, but as soon as he had, Val saw him sway and rushed to his side, catching him before he crumpled.

"To hell you can manage. In case you haven't noticed, you're bleeding."

"It's nothing, just a flesh wound," the young gunfighter said, looking at his left arm, hanging uselessly by his side. In truth, blood was running down his arm, onto the sides of his pants and pooling down on the ground at his feet and he looked like he was starting to feel more dizzy.

"Got a place to hole up?"

"Not really. Look, I'll fix it myself. I don't need you."

"Maybe you don't need me. But, I'd like for us to start all over."

The boy looked at him, a puzzled expression on his young face, as if he couldn't believe someone would want to know him, befriend him. Then, he smiled and his smile was so bright that Val knew he would never forget his encounter with this boy. At the same time, he saw something in those very vivid blue eyes, something that made him realize Johnny needed help before it was too late, even if the boy himself wasn't aware of it yet.

And since Val Crawford had a soft spot for kids in need, he would help this particular kid, whether he wanted it or not – before those eyes became dead, like those of some gunfighters of his acquaintance.

"I… I'd like that, Señor Crawford."

"It's Val. Just Val."

They had ended up escorting the silver shipment Val was waiting for when Johnny had showed up in the saloon and then, they rode on together for a few months. Until their paths veered and Val had to cross back to the American side of the border, but they had found ways to keep in touch.

/

Val was shaken out of his reverie when they finally arrived where he had left the Lancers earlier that day. Murdoch was still sitting on the ground but Scott was up and about, pacing back and forth restlessly.

"Hey! I'm back!" Val yelled as he dismounted.

"We're not blind!" Scott responded dryly and in a somewhat irritated tone. "What took you so long?"

"Boy, don't be such a porcupine, Scott." Val continued, smiling. "Meet Ben and Jim. They work in a fairly good size orange grove farm not far from here and will take us to town. Let's get your father in the wagon and move on."

Scott had a contrite look on his face as he answered. "Sorry, Val. I guess all this is starting to get on my nerves."

"It's okay, Scott. I know the feeling."

Within less than half an hour, they were on their way with the older Lancer as comfortably installed in the back of the wagon as possible. Soon, they would be in Los Angeles and once Murdoch was settled in a hotel room, Scott and Val would pursue their trip and try to reach Johnny as quickly as they could, before he landed into trouble.

/ / / / /

Johnny's eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping. How could he? He was hungry. He was thirsty. He was hurting. He was almost to the point where he wanted it all to end. He knew that in his weakened state, if they were to torture him any more, he wouldn't be able to cope and would end up disgracing himself. He laughed bitterly. So much for Johnny Madrid's pride!

As the door to his cell opened with a creaking sound, his eyes slightly cracked open. Through half open lids, he watched as an elderly man dressed in what used to be a white shirt and white pants slowly made his way into the cell, bringing with him a tray loaded with a bowl, a cup and a chunk of bread.

Johnny briefly entertained the thought of knocking the man over and trying to escape. A quick look behind the peon made him change his mind. Three other men were standing less than five feet from the door. All were heavily armed and looked strangely familiar. Even if Johnny had been in good shape, he would have had a hard time overcoming them.

Johnny let the old man come nearer to him and when he deposited the tray near his feet, he grabbed his arm.

"¿Por favor, por qué me tienes aquí guardado?" he asked, surprised at how raw his voice was.

The man didn't answer. So, he tried again.

"¿Contestame? ¡Por favor, hablame, dime algo!"

The man shook his arm free and stepped back. He looked frightened, so frightened that Johnny realized no matter what he said, the man wouldn't answer. He probably had been forbidden to talk to him. Not wanting to create any problems for the poor man, he sank back against the wall until his shoulder hit it and he sighed, frustration and desperation slowly making their way into his mind.

"¿Por favor, por qué me tienes aquí guardado?" – Please, why am I being kept here?

"¿Contestame? ¡Por favor, hablame, dime algo!" – Answer me? Please, talk to me, say something!

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

And Val stepped back, letting the boy do what he must, letting him keep his face A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 21

It had taken forever to get to Los Angeles – at least, that's how it had seemed to Murdoch. He had kept dozing off for brief periods of time. Each time he had woken, it was to find himself looking into the concerned eyes of his elder son or the sheriff. Now, looking into Scott's eyes was kind of normal but the sheriff? When had the man started to care about him?

The older Lancer chuckled. In his heart, he knew the answer – Val cared because Johnny cared. It was as simple as that. Murdoch was ready to bet that Johnny had asked Val to keep an eye on HIS Old Man, on all of his newfound family, whenever he wasn't there to do it. His boy sure was full of surprises. Who would have thought a so-called tough gunfighter would have such a soft spot for the people he cared about? And how blind had he been about this trait of character in his son.

Murdoch realized, more and more, that he would have to trample on his own pride and fully open his heart to allow this precious son of his to enter. Only then would their relationship truly improve. They had talked, a bit, but not nearly enough. Things were better between them, sufficiently for Johnny to admit he loved Lancer, his home, and was happy there. But Scott was right. It was high time the Lancer men got together and put all the cards on the table. Confronting the past – all of their pasts – was the solution, the only solution if they wanted to forge a stronger bond and really become the family they needed to become. And he would need to have a very open mind where Johnny's past was concerned. He would have to accept all the ugliness of that past because he was sure part of it was very ugly.

He was thankful his boy had met people like Val and Jeremy, though; men who had played a part in keeping his son's soul intact. Besides, that was exactly what Isham had told him when he and Sexton Joe had come to Lancer to kill him. 'If it's any comfort, Johnny… he never quite hit the bottom.' Those were Isham's words to him. And it had, indeed, given him comfort at a time when he had been sure it was over for him.

Murdoch sighed as he remembered that day. That whole fracas with Warburton had almost cost him his son. But, Johnny had saved his life that night by killing Sexton and Isham, a man he considered a friend. Someone he trusted, or rather had trusted at one point in his life. And Murdoch had almost screwed up.

He recalled Johnny had been visibly hurting after the shootout with Isham and instead of comforting him, when Johnny had told him what Tallie had asked him, Murdoch had asked what his answer had been. What a fool he had been – the mere fact that Johnny was here was an answer in itself. He was lucky Johnny had cared enough about him to forgive him and stay at Lancer.

His little boy. Hell no, his Johnny wasn't a little boy anymore. He was a man, albeit still very young, but a man in his own name. And it was this same young man who had told him 'Well, Murdoch, you have a prodigal son, if you still want one.' His son, his very proud son, had then leaned into him, seeking comfort, and understanding. Yes, Murdoch was lucky Johnny had turned out to be such a forgiving person.

"Murdoch… Murdoch… Open your eyes, we're there."

Scott's voice penetrated his subconscious and the older man shook his head, blinking and staring at his son.

"Sorry. I guess I was miles away."

"Let me help you," the younger man offered.

Murdoch's first reaction was to balk – old habits die hard. But, he finally accepted his son's offer. Might as well start letting others help him right now. God knew he needed it, anyhow.

Soon, the older man was standing on his two feet, taking the time to get his bearings. His back still hurt but it was slightly better. At least he could move, although more slowly than usual. He looked around him and was astonished at the change the small town had gone through since he last came. There were new shops, even a new saloon. 'I bet Johnny's already checked that one out,' he thought, chuckling.

While he was looking around, Scott and Val were thanking the two men who had accompanied them. He saw Scott tipping them handsomely for their trouble and smiled. His older boy had been faster than him. After all, without them, they would probably still be waiting for him to be able to ride.

Los Angeles truly would be his last stop. Staying behind wasn't quite agreeable to him, though. He had so wanted to be the one to find his missing son. But he was sensible enough to realize the more he tried to ignore the signals his back was sending to him, the more it would end up being detrimental to the well-being of his son, not to mention his own. 'Well, since I'm stuck here, might as well visit a few friends,' he told himself.

Then, the older Lancer resolutely walked toward a small hotel down the road, closely followed by both Scott and Val.

/ / / / /

Johnny hadn't meant to, but the monotony of the trip combined with the lullaby the woman was now softly singing to her little girl pulled him inexorably into a sense of security and slowly, very slowly, he felt his eyes start to shut. He tried to fight the sleepiness that invaded his body but soon, his head dropped on his chest and he fell asleep, oblivious to the world surrounding him – and this time, he was not faking and before long, he found himself in another world at another time in his life.

/

"Está afortunado que yo siento magnánimo hoy, mestizo. Si no, usted sería muerte ahora," a booming voice said. The owner of said voice was a very large man and he was standing right above him, with what looked like a very satisfied grin on his face.

With an effort, he got up but everything started to spin dangerously around him. He valiantly fought the dizziness, looked up and spat into the face of his tormentor.

"Vaya al diablo, Castaneda," he said, trying to steel his voice so it wouldn't show how bad he really felt.

He was rewarded with a vicious kick to his lower back, given by one of the three mean-looking men he had forgotten were behind him. The same men who had beaten him earlier and left him crumpled in a bloody heap at their feet, awaiting the pleasure of their employer while they were wiping his blood off their hands onto their dirty shirts.

The pain he experienced sent him down again. As he curled up, writhing on the ground, trying to cope with the intense agony he was in, he heard Castaneda talk to his men. "Llevarlo al desierto y atarlo. Dalo una cantina media llena, pero ponerlo poquito fuera de su alcance. Permítalo a trabajar su camino a libertad. Veremos cómo él es resistente."

Two of the men grabbed him roughly under the arms and pulled him up. He was barely able to stand on his feet as they started to push him in front of them. But, he was proud and he absolutely refused to give them the satisfaction of witnessing his state of weakness. Besides, it wouldn't do well for his growing reputation – no, Madrid needed to be strong and sharp. Never show need, fear, weakness, loyalty nor love, never because that could be the difference between living and dying. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he gathered all of his determination and stood erect, as straight as he could and walked away from his enemy.

"Hey, mestizo, no se atreve a regresa cerca de mi hacienda o de esta aldea. La próxima vez que te veo, usted será carne muerta para los buitres," the hacendado said to him.

He didn't even bother to turn back to look at the man who fancied himself a great hacendado. He kept walking, closely followed by the two men who were to take him to the desert. As they reached the outskirts of the small village, his body betrayed him and before he knew it, he was lying in the dirt, unconscious.

When he woke, he was tied up, as Señor Castaneda had said he would be, with his hands and his feet firmly bound. There was no one in sight. He was truly alone, except for the buzzards circling high above his head, looking no doubt to feast on his flesh. Well, he had news for them – he wouldn't go down without a fight.

He looked around and saw the canteen lying on the ground, too far out of reach to be of any use. Besides, those damn bastards had uncorked it and whatever it contained was now dripping out slowly and being absorbed quickly in the ground. That's when the truth hit him – Castaneda had never intended for him to get out of there alive. Hell, they hadn't even left him his hat.

His head was throbbing so much he thought he would pass out again, but he struggled… knowing that if he let the darkness win, he'd die for sure. He licked his already dry lips and tried to figure out what he needed to do. Right now, the most urgent thing was to get free of the ropes binding him. Those sons of bitches had tied him very tight, so tight that his hands were already numb. In a way he was lucky as they had not bound them at his back. With some luck, he would be able to reach for the knife he kept hidden in his left boot, providing neither Castaneda nor his men had found it.

Once he was free of the ropes binding him, he would be able to survive in the desert. It wasn't the first time he had been stuck in such a dire predicament without any water. He knew which cacti were edible and that would give him a fair chance. He would only need to stay out of the sun as much as possible, considering he had no hat to protect him and that his shirt was almost ripped into shreds.

But, if he made it, then one day he would come back and make Castaneda pay. Not only for what he did to him but also for the way he treated the peons working for him. One day, Johnny Madrid would get his revenge.

With that thought in his mind, he started to work his way to freedom. After what seemed hours, he succeeded in removing his left boot and retrieving his knife. Struggling a bit more, he was finally able to cut the ropes binding his ankles and, as soon as this was done, he put his discarded boot back on. Now he had to find a way to free his hands and that was a bit more complicated.

He stuck the knife between his knees and concentrated on the task of cutting the ropes that were digging into the flesh of his wrists, leaving them bloody and hurting like hell. He was so absorbed with his task that he was oblivious to anything else.

"Estamos alegres que nosotros te encontramos, niño," a deep voice said just behind him.

Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin and cursed. Here he was, in the middle of the desert, his hands still bound and without any means to defend himself, aside from an almost useless knife that he held between his knees. He grabbed the knife and managed to keep his hold on it. He got up as quickly as he could, ready to give his attackers as much of a hard time as he was able to. He would go down fighting to his last breath.

He couldn't have been more surprised, however, as he turned. Facing him were a middle-aged man accompanied by three younger men and a young woman who were all in their twenties. He recognized them as some of the villagers that he had seen in the small village he had been expelled from a little earlier.

"No queremos dañarte. Por favor nos permitimos ayudarte," the older man said.

Johnny tried to speak but his throat was so parched that no sound came out. The blood loss combined with the exertion he had spent trying to break free made him so weak that everything around him was starting to look kind of blurry again. He slowly sank to the ground and briefly closed his eyes, only to jerk them open seconds later. Once again, he tried to speak but to no avail. His eyes closed and, at the same moment, his fingers uncurled and the knife he was holding dropped on the ground.

In an instant, the young woman was kneeling beside him. She uncorked a canteen and brought it to his lips, all the while talking soothingly to him. He greedily drank, spilling some water on his chin as he did.

"No tan despacio. Consequirás enfermo."

Her voice was soft and melodious and her dark eyes were kind. So kind, in fact, that he trusted her implicitly.

"Me llamo Flor Castillo," she said as she stroked his hair and the side of his face, encouraging him to drink a little more. He still didn't trust his voice so he didn't even try to say anything and simply nodded his understanding. He took a couple more sips and clamped his mouth shut, effectively indicating to her he didn't want any more water.

She removed the canteen from his lips and then proceeded to cut the ropes that were still binding his wrists. He held back a hiss of pain as the circulation started to flow back in his hands. He lay down, breathing heavily, and all of a sudden he felt the darkness engulfing him. He thought about fighting it for barely one second and then gave up and welcomed it.

Está afortunado que yo siento magnánimo hoy, mestizo. Si no, usted sería muerte ahora. –  
You're lucky I feel magnanimous today, Mestizo, otherwise you'd be dead now.

Vaya al diablo, Castaneda. – Go to hell, Castaneda

Llevarlo al desierto y atarlo. Dalo una cantina media llena, pero ponerlo poquito fuera de su alcance. Permítalo a trabajar su camino a libertad. Veremos cómo él es resistente. – Take him to the desert and tie him up. Leave him a half-full canteen but put it just out of his reach. Let him work his way toward freedom from there. We'll see how tough he is.

Hey, mestizo, no se atreve a regresa cerca de mi hacienda o de esta aldea. La próxima vez que te veo, usted será carne muerta para los buitres. – Hey, Mestizo, don't you ever dare to come back near my hacienda or this village. Next time I see you, you'll be dead meat for the buzzards.

Estamos alegres que nosotros te encontramos, niño. – We're glad we found you, niño.

No queremos dañarte. Por favor nos permitimos ayudarte. – We don't want to harm you. Please, let us help you.

No tan despacio. Consequirás enfermo. – Not so fast. You'll get sick.

Me llamo Flor Castillo. – My name if Flor Castillo.

/

It was the lack of motion that suddenly woke Johnny up. For a second, he thought he was still that 17 years old young gunfighter who Flor and her family had found in the desert. Quickly enough, though, the little girl in front of him was an effective reminder that he was in the stage. She was squirming in her seat, no doubt anxious to get off and run all around the place. Johnny smiled as he pushed his hat back onto his head and waited for his turn to get off.

"We're leaving in thirty minutes," the coach driver yelled as soon as everybody was off. "There's food inside. Eat while you can, folks."

Johnny looked up and glanced at the sky, figuring it was about six o'clock. He stretched his back and walked around. Then, while the other passengers did more or less the same thing, before heading inside the small building, he went to the water pump and, after emptying his canteen, filled it with fresh water. Almost unconsciously, he ended up near the driver and his partner and watched them for a little while, an idea sneaking around in his head.

"You mind if I sit up there for the next stretch?" he asked the driver.

"Feeling cramped inside, Son?"

Johnny laughed. "No… I just want to avoid falling asleep again and then end up spending a sleepless night. I suppose that we will stop for the night on our next stop, right?"

"You're right," the driver answered, smiling. "There's enough room up there. You're welcome to sit with us. I'm Jim and this, here, is Jake, my brother."

"Thanks," Johnny said, shaking the two men's hands. "I'm Johnny."

"Don't thank us, it's always better if we have another set of eyes to watch out," Jake said.

"Expecting trouble?"

"No, but we never know. It's been pretty quiet lately. Besides, I suppose whoever might think about making trouble will think twice before doing so."

"Oh and why?"

"We know who you are, Mr. Madrid," Jim answered.

Johnny was a bit annoyed at having been recognized. But, at least, the brothers didn't seem to consider him a cold-blooded killer, like so many Americans did. So he answered them, graciously. "Well, I'm not Madrid anymore. I've retired from that life and I'm now a respectable rancher."

"Yeah, we heard. Does that mean you won't help if there is trouble?" Jake said, looking at him directly.

Johnny smiled. "Nope. I'll help in any way I can. Don't worry. I'll just need you to hand me back my gun."

The brothers laughed and slapped him in the back and together, the three men walked over to the building where they each grabbed a plate of steaming stew.

Less than thirty minutes later, all the passengers were boarded on the coach and Johnny was sitting to the left of Jake.

/ / / / /

Jeremy was happy. He had made good speed and was now ready to spend the night in Barstow. He couldn't wait to grab a good meal and drink something stronger than water or coffee.

As he set foot in the small town, he looked around. It was past eight o'clock and all the shops were closed. The only places still open were the saloon and a small place he knew was serving up food until late in the evening.

He first went to the hotel to secure a room and then to the livery to leave his horse. Then he went to eat. Once his belly was full, he walked over to the Sheriff's office. Since it was close to ten o'clock, maybe he'd be lucky and be able to convince his pal, Sheriff Jamieson, to have a drink with him once his shift was over.

He had no intention of getting drunk. Just share a couple of glasses of beer and talk about old times and then call it a night. He intended to resume his trip early the next morning.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

And Val stepped back, letting the boy do what he must, letting him keep his face A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 22

This time, when he woke up, Johnny wasn't alone anymore. A man dressed in the accustomed gray uniform of the Rurales was hovering over him. He knew then that the people he had thought he had briefly glimpsed behind the elderly peon who had brought his meal earlier, had not been a figment of his imagination.

"Estoy alegre ver que está con nosotros otra vez, Mestizo," the man said, a malevolent smile playing on his lips. (I'm glad to see you're back among us, Mestizo.)

It was too dark in the cell for Johnny to fully discern the man, but he immediately recognized the voice and a shudder went through his body. 'Mierda! El Capitán. I'm in deep shit this time!'

"Hola, Capitán," he responded. "I can't really say I'm glad to see you. Thought maybe the buzzards made a feast out of your ugly hide. But, I suppose they're the ones who got poisoned, seeing you're here."

"You still have a smart mouth, haven't you, Madrid?" the man Johnny called El Capitán said in a heavily accented English. As he spoke, he lit a small oil lamp he was holding in his hands. He raised the wick only enough so that the light was just sufficient for him to see his prisoner.

"I'd hate to disappoint you," Johnny replied in English too as he tried to get up. However, his abused body refused to obey him and he fell back onto the hard packed ground.

El Capitán laughed as he put a foot on the young man's shoulder and pressed down, effectively keeping him pinned to the ground.

"No need to get up on my account. I'm just here to tell you your time will be over soon."

"On what grounds?"

"You are a fugitive and you still have a death sentence on your head. In a few days, you will face the consequences of your acts."

"If I remember, your men accepted money in exchange for my freedom. Blame them, not me."

"Oh, don't you worry! Those who were left standing after your escape have already faced my wrath and they're not here to talk about it anymore. Now's your turn."

With that, El Capitán turned on his heels and walked out of the cell, leaving Johnny in a deeper despair and in the darkness once again.

He was trapped in a dark cell, and from the distinctive coppery smell of blood, stale sweat – including his own – and vomit, he wasn't alone in that place. Dios! He couldn't stand being smelly anymore and he laughed bitterly at that thought – who would have guessed that he would end up sharing his brother's passion for baths?

Briefly, he wondered how many prisoners were being held in that accursed place, what they had done and how the Rurales would get rid of them. Very quickly, though, his thoughts turned back to his own situation.

He hated the dark. Well, not the darkness per say as he loved lying on his back while looking at the stars on a night with no moon. But being stuck in a place that he felt was closing in on him without any light wasn't something he particularly liked. It always brought back too many bad memories, which were linked to a time where, as a helpless child, his last stepfather had locked him up in a closet for any real or imaginary fault he had committed.

He'd really done it this time – put himself in a position where he couldn't expect anybody to mysteriously materialize in front of him and save him, like that Pink agent did two years ago. Well, if this was the end of the road for him, he would make sure he died without giving El Capitán the satisfaction of hearing him beg for his life or for a quick death.

But before he left this world, he still needed to understand why his friends had betrayed him. He needed to somehow talk to Flor. But where was she? Was she even aware of what was happening to him or what had been done to him by their mutual friends? Come to think of it, he would probably endanger her if he asked to speak with her, providing El Capitán didn't know about his involvement with her family. On the other hand, perhaps his enemy knew and she was already in danger and maybe that's why she had asked him to come.

His mind was assaulted with so many questions. Questions to which he had no answers, and no real means of finding out. He was still sprawled on the ground, in the exact spot where the Rurales capitán had pinned him down. Wearily, he brought his hands to his head and rubbed his temples. He felt like screaming, but that wouldn't solve anything. So, instead, he painfully got up and started to walk in circles, just like a caged animal. Which, all things considered, he was.

/ / / / /

"Murdoch, wait! Where do you think you're going like this?" Scott called, as he followed the older man with Val in tow along with their three horses.

Murdoch had been walking toward the end of the road where a small hotel was standing. But, as he passed the stage depot, he suddenly veered and headed in that direction instead and, without waiting for an acknowledgement from his older son and Val, he stepped inside and went directly to the counter, tended by a young woman. The younger men hurriedly tied the horses to the hitching rail and followed Murdoch inside.

"Hola Mara," Murdoch said, greeting her.

The young woman looked up, and gasped as she recognized the tall man standing in front of her. Her expression plainly showed that of all the people she could have expected to see, Murdoch Lancer was definitely the last one.

"Hola, Señor Lancer. What a pleasure to see you," she said, as she quickly hide her shock under a smile.

"The pleasure is mine, Señorita."

"What can I do for you?"

"Could you please tell me when the stage for San Diego is leaving?"

"Oh, you've just missed one earlier today. The next one is scheduled to leave in two days."

Scott was a few steps behind his father and swore softly. However, Val wasn't so discreet.

"Damn," Murdoch heard the sheriff say behind him.

He chose to ignore Val's outburst. "Tell me, Mara," he asked. "Do you recall if a young caballero boarded it?"

Inwardly, Mara sighed in relief, pleased that they hadn't asked directly for a young man named Johnny Lancer. Although she knew it was wrong to lie she just felt compelled to do so. She thought if Johnny had wanted his family to know where he was going, he would have told them. "Lo siento, Señor Lancer, I've only arrived a short while ago to relieve my father. I couldn't tell who boarded the stage."

"Thank you. Tell me one more thing, does your uncle still own the small hotel down the road?"

"Yes, he does. He'll be happy to see you, Señor," she answered.

Murdoch nodded absently and turned away, followed closely by Scott and Val.

"Where to now?" asked Scott as they stepped outside the stage depot.

"Oh just going over to the hotel to secure rooms and find something to eat."

"Shouldn't we take care of the horses first?" Scott said, eyeing the livery that was adjacent to the stage depot.

"Yes, yes, of course. Go ahead, I'll wait here."

"We'll check if Shadow is there at the same time," Scott added, taking two of the horses while Val led his own inside the stable.

After Scott had indeed found Shadow, Val questioned the liveryman as to the whereabouts of the owner of the horse and was told a young man claiming to be Johnny Lancer had left the horse with orders to send him back to the Lancer Hacienda as soon as possible.

While Val stayed with the liveryman, Scott hurriedly went back outside to fetch his father who was impatiently waiting for them.

"Shadow is there. I think you should come inside, Murdoch."

The Lancer patriarch stepped inside the stable and was immediately greeted by the liveryman.

"Good to see you, Mr. Lancer."

"Good to see you too, Thomas. This here is my elder son, Scott. And this is Sheriff Val Crawford. So, it seems my younger son has left his horse here then?"

"Well, he said he was Johnny Lancer. Left me some money to return the horse. So, I figured he wasn't a thief."

"What did he look like?" asked Val.

"A bit taller than me, slim, dark hair, blue eyes, dressed like a Mexican. Goes by another name, too, but that's none of my business. If he claims to be Johnny Lancer, then Johnny Lancer he is."

Murdoch laughed. Thomas had always been a good man, minding his own business in a no-nonsense way.

"He is both, but don't worry Thomas."

"Heard say he was your lost son. Just wasn't sure it was true."

"Do you know if he's still in town?" asked Scott.

"Nope, I doubt it. Was thinking about leaving today."

"He rented a horse?" Val inquired.

"Nah, took the stage this afternoon."

"Are you sure?"

"Can't say for sure, Mr. Lancer. But if he's left his horse here, I don't think he'd have rented one someplace else and I would know if he had rented one here. If he is not to be found in town then I guess he took the stage. You might want to ask at the stage depot."

"Thanks. We already have. I guess we missed him by a few hours then."

Murdoch turned to leave but as he did, Thomas called him.

"Mr. Lancer, should I still return the horse to your ranch?"

"No, keep him here for now. Just take good care of him and of my own horse. I'll be staying in town for a little while."

Once outside, the older Lancer resumed his walk toward the end of the road under the watchful eyes of Scott and Val.

"Uh, Mr. Lancer, wouldn't you be better off at the Bella Union Hotel?" asked Val, looking at the small hotel where Johnny's father was heading to, obviously disregarding the larger hotel which was located right beside the stage depot.

"Could be. But since I'm going to be stuck here, I'd rather spend some time with an old acquaintance of mine who happens to own this small hotel and, believe me it is much nicer over there. Smaller place, maybe, but they do have a wonderful table. And, as I said, I do know the owner."

The two younger men followed suit and soon, they were standing in front of Alejandro Medina's hotel.

/ / / / /

Johnny was happier riding shotgun than he did cramped inside the stage, even though the inside of that particular stage was larger than those he usually rode in. He only used a stage when he had no choice in the matter. He preferred to ride on a good horse. But he was sensible. He would not necessarily travel faster that way but he wouldn't have to contend with a tired horse and an even more tired rider.

He would have liked the chance to sit quietly inside and think about a plan but the problem of riding with the two brothers was that they expected him to talk to them. He felt obliged. Thus he made polite conversation to them, talking about this and that but avoiding anything too personal. Scott would be proud of him. He'd have to remember to tell his brother that he was becoming an expert at chatting with people. Didn't he, after all, make polite conversation to Tierra before falling for her?

In a way, talking with them had made the time fly faster. Soon, they pulled to a stop in front of the stage station located at San Juan Capistrano, where they would spend the night. The station consisted of a small-size one-storey white adobe building that would provide food and shelter to the passengers. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing at all. From the outside, at least, the place looked clean and decent enough.

However, Johnny doubted he would be able to rest surrounded by strangers, particularly since a few more passengers were scheduled to board the coach come morning, according to the brothers. Actually, he seriously considered sleeping under the moon and the stars – that would be much quieter and would offer him more privacy. He really needed to bring Madrid to the forefront. He couldn't possibly go to Mexico as Johnny Lancer. No, Madrid was needed and any sort of preparation might mean the difference between life and death.

Satisfied with his decision, he finally went inside the station and made his way to the small dining room where he found an empty table at the far end of the room, right beside a door which probably led to the back of the building. He sat, waiting for the waitress to bring him a plate of stew with some bread, all the while hoping he would be left alone while he dined. He'd heard enough from the talkative brothers to last a lifetime and was looking forward to some peaceful moments.

/ / / / /

Murdoch stepped into the hotel lobby and went directly to the dining room after giving a nod to the young man at the counter. It was close to seven o'clock and he figured they better get something to eat before they even thought about booking a couple of rooms.

Scott and Val were right behind him and the three men were soon shown to a table on the right side of the small yet crowded restaurant. Within a few minutes of their arrival, a young Mexican woman came to their table with a tray laden with a pitcher of fresh water along with three glasses that she deposited on the table in front of them along with a plate of tostadas with a Queso Blanco dip.

"Good evening, Señores! May I suggest our special for today?"

"What is it?" asked Scott, as he slightly raised his head to look at her. She was, he reckoned, no more than 24 or 25 years old and she was flashing a bright smile at him.

"Today's special is Chicken or Beef Quesadillas. The very best in town."

"How spicy is it?"

Val and Murdoch both chuckled, knowing full well that even after two years, Scott was still not used to anything too spicy and God knew how hot his brother could eat. Once in a while, Maria indulged Johnny and prepared something just for him – well, for him and Murdoch as the older man had developed a taste for the stuff as well. On those days, she also prepared a milder version for Scott, Teresa and Jelly.

Scott had tried once and swore he'd never try again. He had thought his mouth was on fire for days. It was true, however, that Johnny had played a prank on him. He remembered that shortly after their arrival at the ranch his little brother had prepared a salsa especially for him, ensuring him that he would love the taste. He should have known better. Scott could swear Johnny had used every chili pepper he had found in their pantry plus those in Maria and Cipriano's house. Even after swallowing three big glasses of milk, which, according to his brother was the best cure, the fire was still burning in his throat. Johnny had laughed until he had fallen on the floor, tears running down his cheeks. Scott had vowed to take his revenge someday.

"If you prefer your food more bland, I can have the cook prepare some just for you, Señor. Unless your two friends don't want to eat spicy either."

"Spicy is all right with me, Señorita, and I'm sure it will be for Mr. Lancer as well. Am I right?" Val said, looking at Murdoch.

"Yes, it is for me but I was thinking more in terms of something special. Why don't you surprise us?" Murdoch added with a smile. "And please, bring us a bottle of tequila as well."

The young woman left them while Scott looked at his father and the sheriff.

"Are you trying to be the death of me?"

"What? Don't you like tequila?" teased Val.

"I'm still getting used to it."

"Then tequila it will be, my friend." Val continued, smiling.

"And what if she brings back something way too hot for my poor taste buds?"

"Don't worry, Scott," Murdoch said, laughing. "I can guarantee you will like whatever she will bring us back. "

/ / / / /

Jeremy drank a couple of beers while he had his talk with Sheriff Jamieson. He was glad to meet the man who was partly behind his decision to finally become a lawman as opposed to continuing bounty hunting. They hadn't seen each other for a couple of years and had a lot to make up for. Their talk lasted till Jeremy realized he needed to call it a night as he was planning to leave early the next morning.

As he went into his room, Jeremy thought about Madrid and what he would do to the young man for pulling this stunt. What in tarnation had gotten into the boy's head? He should know better than anyone else how dangerous it was for him to go back to the very place he nearly lost his life.

If his young friend did not want his family involved in something he thought might turn ugly, he should at least have talked to Val or him and seen if they could accompany him. Jeremy was sure both Val and he would have dropped everything to go with their young friend. They both knew that if Johnny ever met with Lopez again, things would definitely become extremely unpleasant and Johnny might find himself at the wrong end.

Jeremy hoped Johnny had a well thought out plan to approach this whole situation. Now that the boy had finally found what he'd always been looking for – a family, a sense of security and a place to belong to – this damn letter Johnny had received was threatening to change everything. With a myriad of thoughts swirling in his head, Jeremy finally fell asleep.

/ / / / /

After what turned out to be an excellent meal, the Lancers and Val enjoyed a delicious fruit salad accompanied by some coffee. While they ate, and after much arguing, Murdoch had successfully convinced the two men to wait till the next day before they kept pursuing Johnny.

Both Val and Scott had wanted to continue right after they finished eating, even if it meant renting two fresh horses and stopping a couple of hours later since the night would be fully upon them by then and it would become too dangerous to ride. But, common sense finally prevailed and they agreed to spend the night at the hotel and leave very early the following morning.

While Murdoch went to book their rooms, Scott and Val went back to the livery to tell the liveryman they would retrieve their horses by four o'clock the next morning. They paid the man extra money so that their mounts would be saddled, tied up outside and ready to go by that time and then they went back to the hotel.

They all ended up in Murdoch's room and sat down around the small table as they had a final discussion before calling it a night.

"I hope, Mr. Lancer, that you will stay put here and not try to follow us after a couple of days of rest," Val said, watching Murdoch dubiously.

"What makes you think that I would do such a thing, Sheriff?" Murdoch asked, smiling.

"Oh, let's say I do have some experience with you Lancers. Never seen a bunch of more stubborn people in my life."

"Fine. I promise. Does that suffice to alleviate your suspicions?"

Val snorted, knowing very well that if Murdoch Lancer decided he would follow them, he would. But he sincerely hoped he wouldn't.

"The girl at the stage depot said she hasn't seen Johnny," Scott said.

"Not exactly, Scott. She said she hasn't seen any young caballero and that she wasn't behind the counter in the afternoon, before the stage left."

"Shouldn't we find out who was? And ask questions?"

"Scott, it wouldn't make any difference right now. It's late, the stage depot is closed and we've already discussed this. You're not leaving tonight. It's too dangerous. I already have one son missing, I don't want another one going missing too," Murdoch said, sighing heavily.

"I know. It's just that I… I'm…"

"You're worried about your brother," Val said, stepping in. "We all are. After all, it's Johnny we're talking about here and we all know that trouble has a way of finding him even when the boy's not looking for it."

"Scott, you will leave early tomorrow. Every time you hit a town with a telegraph, wire me. If I find anything tomorrow, after you've left, I'll send a wire to the next town. Check when you get there. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the young man responded.

"Let's go to sleep. The night will be very short and I intend to see you off tomorrow morning. I've already made arrangements for a wake up call and have some food ready for you to take."

The two younger men nodded and both left Murdoch to a much-needed sleep. Truth be told, they were also exhausted and as soon as their heads fell on the pillow of their respective beds, in the room they shared, they fell into a dreamless sleep.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 23

Jeremy spent a good night and woke up fully rested. Contrary to what he had thought, bad dreams had not visited him. It was thus a refreshed sheriff who resumed his trip very early the next morning, stopping whenever the need arose for both his horse and him.

As he rode, memories of the various occasions he had met with Johnny kept resurfacing. It had been happening ever since he had met with Val and the Lancers a few days ago. Everyone who knew and cared about the young gunfighter also knew he attracted trouble as much as honey attracted bees. It wasn't surprising then that, for Jeremy, the nearer he was to Mexico the more his fears for his young friend were nagging him.

Together with Val, Jeremy had talked numerous times about those things Johnny had done in his early years as a gunfighter, things they knew he was now ashamed of. It was because of those earlier deeds that their young friend had tried as much as possible to offer his services to whoever was right, with no regards as to the possible consequences to him. That and the influence some people, including them, had had on him. But, no matter how much Johnny had changed since his early beginnings, he was still a dangerous man to cross, particularly when people he considered friends were in danger.

This time, however, a trip to Mexico meant there was El Capitán to consider. A man who, even to this day, was known to regularly threaten to get even with Madrid – even if it meant crossing the border to get to him. Both Val and Jeremy had encountered problems with the man at one time or another and Johnny sure had given him plenty of slaps in the face through the years. Unfortunately for all of them, Lopez wasn't the type of person to forget an affront. As to that, one of the biggest mistakes Johnny had made was probably thwarting the corrupted Capitán's projects. Killing Santiago, Lopez' brother in law, had been another. Combine that with the fact Johnny had escaped from the firing squad and it was definitely not good for the young man to travel south of the border alone, with no one to back him up. Those deeds had ensured Lopez' everlasting hatred.

Johnny was also known for possessing a very smart mouth, which he used to talk his way out of tricky situations or which could, more often than not, get him into trouble. Jeremy had been a prime witness to the way his young friend used his mouth at times and had found out how much the boy could rile people. Val was very good at it too and to see both in action was a treat of some sort – so long as their words weren't directed towards him. But, if Johnny were to meet with El Capitán and go smart mouthing in front of him, it wouldn't help at all and could even mean more trouble than he might wish for. Thing is, Jeremy knew the young man probably wouldn't be able to stop himself, as talking back was a part of him as much as his gun was.

When he had met Johnny for the first time, the boy had helped him to successfully escape the clutches of Santiago and Lopez. Strangely enough, Santiago had tried to get Johnny to leave that day, but the boy had stayed by Jeremy's side. The former bounty hunter and special agent had then wondered what was the relationship between the two of them. He had even thought Johnny had once been riding with Santiago, hence his knowledge of the man and what he was doing. He had been wrong, deadly wrong.

This line of thought took him back to when the young eighteen year old gunfighter had once again made an appearance in his life, just a few days prior to his final departure for Mexico, where he was to play a part in the revolution, and the ensuing conversation they had had. Jeremy was once again stationed in a small town located about eighty miles west of Sasabe, just north or the border and almost across from Sonoita.

/

Sitting on a rocking chair, outside the acting sheriff's office, Jeremy was watching the activities in the main street when he saw a lone rider coming in slowly. The man, who was riding a magnificent buckskin horse, was dressed in dark pants with conchos on the sides and a light blue Mexican-style shirt with what looked like dark patterns on the front. His hat was set low on his eyes but Jeremy knew this man didn't miss anything of what was going on around him. He was sure that the rider had already spotted him and that thought made him smile. Soon, the rider and his horse stopped in front of him. Jeremy slowly raised his head, hiding the smile that was threatening to appear on his lips.

"Hola Johnny. What's up?"

"Hola Señor Gringo. Is that all the Spanish you've mastered?" the young man answered as he pushed his hat off his head to let it hang by the strings on his back.

"No, but the other words are not for your ears, Señor Pistolero."

Laughing, Johnny dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching rail and, instead of going around the end of the rail, jumped over it and landed right beside his friend with a light thud, making his spurs jingle joyfully.

"I'm hungry and I'm broke. Know a good place?"

"Sure. I'm hungry too and you're lucky, I've just had my pay. Wait for me here," Jeremy answered, as he got up and went inside the office, only to return a few minutes later. "Come with me. I know just the right place."

The two men walked to a nearby small Mexican restaurant. Knowing his friend's preferences, Jeremy went right away to the back of the place, near the back exit door and let Johnny sit where he would be facing the entrance. Very soon, a young waitress brought them each a glass of cold, refreshing water along with fresh tortillas and salsa and waited for their order. They both ordered burritos and rice along with a bottle of tequila to wash it all down.

After a few minutes, Jeremy cleared his throat. "Val told me you went back to Mexico, with the intention of participating in some small revolution, after meeting with him in California that is."

"Yeah I did! But… something happened down there," Johnny said, ducking his head while uttering a huge sigh.

"You wanna talk about it? That's why you're here, right?"

"No…Si… Oh hell, I don't know what I want. There's only you and Val that I can talk to. I don't trust anyone else."

"Not even Lucinda?" Jeremy asked, smiling.

"I trust Lucinda with my life, but I don't want her to know too much, might be dangerous for her. Right now, the only thing people know about Lucinda and me is that whenever I'm in Sonoita, I go over there and spend a night or two with some girls and that's normal, considering she owns the bordello. What I'm up to with Roberto is no business of hers."

"Then go ahead. I'm listening, unless you want to eat first and then, we'll head over to my place, where it will be quieter and safer. We won't risk being disturbed or overheard."

"You have tequila, lime and salt at your place?" Johnny asked, with a teasing smile.

"Yes, plenty and it's just been sitting there, waiting for you and Val."

"Okay. Let's eat, then. I'm really starving. Haven't had anything since I left Mexico two days ago."

Jeremy filed this information in his head for future use. He could see that the boy wasn't quite himself and that worried him. His young friend had the look of someone who hadn't had a good night's sleep in quite a while and was bothered by a heavy burden sitting right on his shoulders. Although Johnny was smiling and joking, his normally sparkling eyes were dull and dark circles were starting to show under those blue eyes. He also was in dire need of a good bath to get rid of the dirt that clung to his clothes.

Less than an hour later, Jeremy took Johnny to his place, a small three-room house at the very end of the main street, well away from the frenzy of the small border town. As they entered, a gray tabby cat came immediately to rub against Jeremy's legs and then, sat down to look at Jeremy's guest with curious eyes.

"Hello, Gatito," Johnny said, bending his knees and extending his left hand to let the small animal sniff him and decide whether he represented a threat or not.

Satisfied with his inspection, the cat greeted Johnny and licked his fingers. Then, he started following him everywhere.

While Jeremy went to the small kitchen to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of tequila, Johnny sat down on the couch in front of a small coffee table. The cat jumped right beside him and made himself comfortable.

Jeremy didn't take very long to join Johnny. He was carrying a tray on which he had put a dish of salt with a small bowl filled with lime slices along with two glasses and a bottle of tequila. Putting the whole tray on the table, he sat down on the opposite side of Johnny and poured down a measure of tequila for each of them.

"So, care to tell me what's wrong?" he asked, sitting comfortably in his chair.

"I'm not sure if I should."

"Listen, Johnny. I didn't tell you before but you look like shit. What happened out there to make you feel so down? You know you can trust me and that I will do everything in my power to help you."

Johnny raised his eyes to look at his friend and smiled. "Yeah, I know," he said as he let out a heavy sigh. "It's just that I don't want you to have trouble because of me. And this, what happened a few days back, is going to be big trouble."

The boy's smile was sad, if anything, and Jeremy definitely didn't like the lost look in his eyes. When Johnny grabbed the bottle of tequila to pour himself another drink, Jeremy stopped him.

"What happened?" he asked, as he gently removed the bottle from Johnny's hand without meeting any resistance from the young man.

"Remember Santiago?"

"Yes, how can I forget him? Were it not for you and Ortega, he would have killed me. So, what about him?"

"I… I killed him," Johnny responded, his voice thick with something that Jeremy felt was very close to grief.

"What? When?" asked Jeremy, wondering why exactly his friend felt sorry for Santiago.

"About a week ago. Didn't want to kill him but I… I had no choice. It was either him or me."

"I guess I've always known there was something between you two. You seemed to know him pretty well. You rode with him once, right?"

"No! Hell no, nothing like that. Him and me, we go way back. He used to be one of my mama's men. He was 20 years old when I met him the first time and I was about 8 years old."

"Is that when you were living with Carlos?"

"Almost a year and a half before but Mama continued to see him once in a while after we started to live with Carlos," Johnny answered, bowing his head once again.

"Don't be ashamed, Johnny. We've been through this before with Val. You were just a kid and had no one to back you up. You did what you had to in order to survive. Nobody in his right mind can blame you for what happened. And, as far as I'm concerned, you had no other choice than killing Carlos. You were facing a life of death situation."

"Yeah, guess I was. Thanks Señor Gringo," Johnny said, a small smile turning the corner of his mouth, before he went on with his story.

"Anyway, Santiago was about the only man my mother had been with who was good to me. Mama kept seeing him after we moved in with Carlos. He used to give me some money so I could buy sweets. Boy, I was even calling him Tío Santiago. Sometimes, he would take me riding out in the desert and teach me how to survive. You know, like finding what kind of cactus was edible, where I could find food, things like that. He also knew that I was stealing food when Mama couldn't bring back enough money and he taught me how to steal bigger things without being caught. Told me it might come handy one day.

"We kept in touch through the years, even after Mama died. When I left the orphanage, Santiago was who I went looking for. He was the only grown man I trusted. I wanted to ride with him but he refused. He said he did not want me to get involved in what he was doing because it was too dangerous. I was still just a kid and he couldn't take care of me, couldn't ensure my safety. He left me in the care of one of his friends because there was no way I was going back to the orphanage. Not after spending almost six months of my life being treated worse than I was when Mama was alive. Before he left, though, he taught me how to use a gun."

"He's the one responsible for making a gunfighter out of you?"

"No. He just gave me an old gun and a few cartridges one day and showed me the basics. He had been gone for about two months when I left his friend's place. Let's say that sweeping the floor of a barbershop wasn't what I wanted to do. No, I was mad at the entire world and particularly my father and I wanted the whole world to pay for Mama's death. Shortly after, I found myself a mentor. But, how I became a gun for hire has nothing to do with what happened between Santiago and me and why I… I ended up killing him."

"Okay. I suppose that whatever it is he was doing has to do with it then. Am I right?"

"Si. During those six months I was in the orphanage, he had started working for Lopez and was crossing the border very often to steal money and weapons. He was also scouring the country to bring back drugs that he obtained from the Indians and other people. Lopez was selling back the stolen weapons to some dirty landowners like León Castaneda and a few others. In turn, the landowners distributed those weapons to the mercenaries they were hiring to keep the peons working for them in check.

"Lopez kept most of the money for himself and distributed the rest to some corrupted officials in the government so that they would turn a blind eye on his criminal activities. And he used the drugs to keep the women he was forcing to work as whores under his control. It took me a few years to discover the full extent of his activities," the young man scorned.

"Oh shit," Jeremy said, disgusted. "And I know for a fact that Santiago did some killings on the American side of the border. That's one of the reasons I was after him when we met."

"I know, he started to add killing to his activities after he married Magdalena, Lopez' sister," Johnny said. He could see questions forming in Jeremy's eyes and before his friend stopped him, he continued right on. "You see, I've known Lopez for a long time, longer than I've known Santiago and I was already calling him El Capitán at the time. Sometimes, he was taking his pleasure with Mama but she wasn't one of the women working for him. And Magdalena, well she was a friend of my mother although she was a good ten years younger than Mama.

"I used to trail behind Lopez whenever he was leaving our place. Can you imagine that back then, I wanted to become a rurale? I asked him about that once, and he told me nobody would want a blue-eye half-gringo bastardo. That's when I realized he disliked me and couldn't care less about me. I eventually returned the sentiment. Later on, a little while after Mama's death, I found out he was doing bad things."

"What do you mean?"

"I had always thought someone working for the rurales ought to be honest, but everything with him was about cheating… and stealing. After he and Santiago hooked up, I found out they were extorting money from the poor peons. But at the time there was nothing I could do, I was too young. But, later on, I started making El Capitán's life a living hell."

"When you became Johnny Madrid, I guess."

"Yeah. Sometimes, I would meet Santiago and we talked about what he was doing. He knew that because he had been good to me when I was a kid, I would never betray his trust. He had really loved my mama and I guess that's why I also knew he would never hurt me willingly, even after I started playing dirty tricks on El Capitán. In fact, he helped me escape his brother in law's clutches a few times but I've always suspected that El Capitán was turning a blind eye for some reason."

"That's why Santiago tried to get you to leave, the day you helped me in Sonoita?"

"Si. Just before we started to exchange shots, I heard him tell his men to spare me. The bullet I took in the back was a courtesy of El Capitán. Santiago's men would never dare to disobey him, so it had to be Lopez who shot me. Guess he was fed up with having to make sure I wasn't stealing anything else from him.

"After that, you and I became friends. Hey, remember when we met in Sasabe?" Johnny asked, smiling at the memory of Val forcing him out of the saloon on the pretence he was still underage and Jeremy scolding him because of his untended injury.

Jeremy simply nodded and let his friend continue.

"Shortly after the three of us met, Val followed me to California. I'm sure he told you I intended to go look for my father and kill him."

Again, Jeremy nodded, knowing better than to interrupt Johnny.

"Guess I was too yellow to go because I turned tail and stayed in San Diego while Val moved further north. We met again in Tejon, about a month after. Once more, I wanted to go after my father but Val stopped me and instead I worked with him at a ranch. Then, I went back to Mexico where I met with Ortega in a small town where we had agreed to meet earlier.

"We were traveling toward Sonoita, coming in from the west, when El Capitán's band of corrupted rurales ambushed us. We were made prisoners and taken to another small village, where Santiago had established his headquarters for the time being. While Ortega was taken somewhere else, I was tied up and brought in front of Santiago," Johnny said, his eyes taking a far away look as he remembered what happened.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

**A PAST FOREVER PRESENT**

**CHAPTER 24**

"Here's the half-breed," one of the guards said, as he pushed Johnny roughly in front of him. Then he handed the young prisoner's gun over to Santiago and took his leave without uttering another word.

"What a surprise, Juanito. Of all the people I might have expected to see here you're the last. I can't say it's nice to see you this time," Santiago said, letting his gaze travel from the face of his prisoner to his feet and back up.

"Well, then don't," Johnny responded, shrugging as he tried to get the bonds restraining his hands behind his back to loosen up some.

"I told you time and time again not to meddle in our affairs. But, you're so pigheaded. What will it take to make you stop?"

"Nothing short of killing me will," Johnny answered, looking defiantly into Santiago's eyes.

Santiago shook his head, inhaled deeply and released a long sigh. Moving smoothly, he took his time as he circled his ex-lover's son to finally stop behind him.

Johnny briefly closed his eyes as he heard the characteristic sound of a knife being retrieved from its sheath. Would the man kill him this time? Had he crossed the invisible line that had always stood between them since he had started spoiling Lopez' fun?

"Listen, I have a proposition for you," Santiago's voice came from behind him, close to his right ear. He could feel the warm breath of the man he called Tío on his neck. At the same time, he felt the ropes binding his wrists being cut and he couldn't help a sigh of relief from escaping his lips. For a moment, just before Santiago spoke, he thought he would end up with his throat cut.

"A proposition? What kind?" he asked, trying to hide the fear he had momentarily felt, as he brought his hands in front of him and rubbed his wrists alternatively to get the circulation back in them. He knew better than to try to escape. He was sure the guards were still close enough for them to intervene. Besides, the village was filled with about twenty-five of Santiago's and El Capitán's men. What could he do against so many?

"We can use someone like you. Someone with your skills with a gun, who knows how to break horses and to steal as well as you do. Someone who speaks English as well as Spanish."

"Are you trying to flatter me?"

"No, but it's true. You could be very useful to us. Think about what you could gain by working with us instead of against us." Santiago said as he came back in front of him and let the idea make its way into the young gunfighter's head. "My brother in law is ready to forget everything you've done so far to disrupt his projects and forgive you."

"Is he now?" Johnny asked, as a slow smile graced his face. "Lopez hates my guts and you know it. What makes you think he would spare me? What would I have to do for that?"

"Simple. If you agree to reveal the names of your accomplices and to work for us, we… he will forget you ever were a part of this scheme."

"And if I don't?"

"I may not be able to protect you anymore."

"I never asked you to," Johnny responded very softly.

"True. But you are Maria's son and I told her I would do everything in my power to protect you. Besides, I do like you. Always have," Santiago replied sadly. "Disposing of you would pain me, a lot."

When Santiago spoke of his mama, Johnny dropped his head. He then looked at Santiago from under his eyelashes and watched him. He knew that Santiago liked him, always had known but he also knew that sooner or later, Lopez wouldn't turn a blind eye anymore and would tell his brother in law to kill him or have someone kill him. He had the feeling that the time had come. The question was would Santiago help him once again by disobeying his brother in law and risking his wrath? He swallowed, raised his head and faced his protector.

"Tío, you know that even if I tell you those names you're looking for, nothing will stop El Capitán from killing me. He won't need me for anything and certainly not for my skills, as you said. He'd rather have me out of the way permanently and the only way is to kill me. I may be young but I'm not a fool. The time has come, right?"

"I don't want to kill you, Juanito."

"It's Johnny, always has been Johnny," he snapped, his eyes turning as cold as ice. "You haven't answered me. Has the time come then?"

"It has."

"You or him?" he asked, his voice harsher than he intended.

"Him. I can't Juani… Johnny. I can't kill you and you know it."

"When?"

"I'm to take you to him. He's waiting not far from here. I'm sorry."

"So am I, Tío," Johnny answered, a note of sadness in his soft voice. "What about Ortega?"

"Don't concern yourself with him."

"He's my friend. I can't just forget him or leave him to his fate. Besides, you won't get anything out of him. He's not aware of the whole game. He doesn't even know the names of all the others who are involved – hell the same goes for me. He's just been riding with me to watch my back. Never was involved in the planning or anything important."

"He's just a pawn, I know that. He was taken someplace else and will be released in a short while. He won't be bothered, I promise. It's not him my brother in law wants. Never was."

Johnny snorted and shook his head in disgust, not believing for one second the promise being made. How could Santiago promise something he had no control over? If Lopez wanted to interrogate Ortega or anyone else, he would. And then, nothing would stop him from killing all of them.

"Well, might as well go and face him. No point having El Capitán wait any longer, is there?" Johnny finally said as he turned his back to Santiago and made for the door of the small adobe house where he had been brought earlier.

/ /

Jeremy looked at the boy – no, he corrected himself, not a boy anymore but a young man who had grown too fast and had already seen the worst of what life could offer – and he shivered. Whatever had happened to make him appear as devastated as he looked must have been really bad. He briefly entertained the thought of stopping Johnny from retelling and reliving the horrible event but he sensed the young man needed to talk.

So, he poured another shot of tequila for both of them and handed Johnny his glass. He watched the young gunfighter as he downed the fiery liquid without even the smallest hint of a grimace. Jeremy had the feeling that once the tale was told Johnny would be totally drained and in dire need of a long rest. The lawman intended to force him to stay put for a few days, to give him a chance to recoup his energy while he watched his back.

Very gently, he steered the young man back to his story. "So what happened? How did you end up killing Santiago?"

Johnny looked at his friend anguish showing plainly in his eyes and his face. He briefly lowered his eyes and reached that hidden spot in his heart where he gathered the strength he needed to continue.

"The village we were in was near a small mountain range. Santiago, the guards and me rode in that direction. I had guessed where they would be taking me, right from the start," Johnny said as once again, he was taken back to where he had been a week before.

/

Saguaros of various sizes were scattered in the plain that lay between the edge of the village and the base of the small mountain. They rode straight ahead, toward the range, passing through the lines of saguaros. It took the best part of an hour to reach the slope, which was covered with foothill palo verdes, desert ironwood trees and sweet acacias in full bloom. The sight was both impressive and beautiful but, this time, Johnny wasn't moved by it. He was too busy trying to figure out a way to get out of this predicament alive.

He knew this village. In fact, he had stayed there a couple of days awhile back and knew that on the other side of the mountain lay a small isolated valley, home of a now deserted silver mine. Dozens of tunnels were spread inside the mountain. Nobody was going there anymore because it was rumored to be haunted. While in that village, Johnny had inadvertently discovered that El Capitán had turned the abandoned mine into one of his hiding places.

A few months ago, together with Ortega, Buck and Wade, two gringos he had met while engaging in a range war on the American side of the border, Johnny had raided the place and taken all the weapons he had found as well as a couple of sacks of gold coins. Keeping only what he needed to pay the gringos and Ortaga, he had met with Roberto to give him the rest of the goods.

Whenever he took care of such business, Johnny would leave his partners in a border town where they would spend the time waiting for him in the company of some painted ladies. As soon as he would return, they would either stay together or split up. Sometimes, they would find work on the American side of the border or wreck havoc in yet another of El Capitán's hiding places, rendering the man crazy, or create trouble for Castaneda, which was one of Johnny's favorite activities. He hated Castaneda with a rare passion and it was his way of getting back at the man for what he had done to him a year or so earlier.

Johnny had always made sure Lopez, Santiago and Castaneda knew it was him who was playing tricks on them. That way, Roberto and the others were safe or as safe as they could be. When Roberto had approached him the first time about helping him and his friends to gather weapons and whatever else they might need, it had been one of his conditions. Roberto and the leaders of the little revolution were not to work in plain sight.

Most of them were heads of families and none were rich to start with. And these poor peons were caught between corrupt rurales and the hacendados. Johnny was willing to sacrifice himself by being at the forefront. To him, it was a way to atone for his past misdeeds. He had known this job he was undertaking would more than likely be his last, whether he got killed or not. He had had enough of it. He wanted to change and maybe, if he got out of it alive, it would be the time to meet his father and set things right between them – whether he killed the man or not remained to be seen.

But for the time being, Johnny's hands were tied in front of him, which allowed him to hold the reins and direct his horse but not much of anything else.

The sun wasn't even high in the sky but the heat was starting to be very uncomfortable. Already, the riders had to wipe their brows a few times and they still had a ways to go before they reached the foot of the mountain. Once there, they would have to climb up a bit until they reached the path they needed to follow to access the valley. To spare their horses undue hardship in this weather, they rode slowly.

Johnny was riding very close to Santiago while the two guards were slightly behind him, riding abreast for the time being and watching him with eagle eyes. He hated to feel their eyes boring into him. Not wanting to show them he was afraid of what was awaiting him, he sat straighter and let his gunfighter mask fall into place.

They finally reached the man-made road that was leading almost to the top of the mountain. At about two hundred feet from the top, it would turn into a path still wide enough to allow for two horses to ride side by side.

Once again, Johnny wiped his brow, took his canteen and drank a bit without slowing the pace of his horse. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Santiago turn his head and watch him. For a brief moment, he thought his Tío would talk to him. Instead, the man shook his head, took his canteen and drank a long swallow from it.

Johnny knew that soon, the pathway they were on would become narrower, forcing them to ride in single file. This was the only way to cross over to the other side of the mountain and it was where Johnny would have to play his hand and somehow get rid of the two guards. That would leave Santiago, and he had no idea how he would get rid of him short of killing him and he didn't want to go that way, not if he could help it. After all, his Tío had been the only father figure he'd had in his early years and it counted, at least in his book.

Earlier, he had been thoroughly searched by the guards. They had relieved him of his hidden gun and his boot knife and drew straws to determine who would keep what. His working gun had been taken earlier, when he and Ortega had been ambushed and given to Santiago once he was brought to him. With his hands bound in front of him and the absence of any of his weapons, he felt helpless and totally naked. He would have to do without were he to try something – and try he would. He had no intention of being taken to El Capitán. As far as he knew, the man would probably torture him to make him talk and then kill him in a manner he was sure would be horrendous.

/ /

Jeremy was listening attentively to his friend. He knew the hard part was coming and fast. Now, he could understand why killing Santiago had been so difficult for Johnny. And whether he personally liked the man or not didn't matter because Johnny had obviously loved him and that fact alone was enough to unbalance the young gunfighter.

"Since you're here and in such a sorry state, I gather you took advantage of some event along the way," Jeremy remarked, trying to help his young friend.

Johnny nodded and took a deep breath before continuing.

"The path was bordered on one side by a wall of rocks and a steep ravine on the other side. We were only a few feet from the place it was becoming narrower and it was the ideal place to at least get rid of the guards."

/

There they were, right in front of the portion of the path leading to the other side. Right about where he would have to make his move towards his freedom or else he would have to confront El Capitán and a death that he knew would neither be quick nor merciful.

Santiago motioned for them to stop and turned sideways to look at him. Johnny saw a great sadness in his Tío's eyes, a sadness that was reflected in his own eyes. The two kept looking at each other for a few minutes, until Santiago broke the contact and addressed the guards that were behind Johnny.

"I will go first. You watch the boy. If he tries anything, you will be held responsible."

"Don't worry. He will behave," the older of the guards said, a malevolent smile playing on his lips.

Johnny's only chance would be once Santiago was committed to the path and unable to turn his horse to come to the help of his men. So, as soon as his Tío's back had disappeared around the bend of the path, he waited for the nearest guard to bring his horse closer to force him to move on. In the meantime, he shifted slightly in his saddle and disengaged his feet from the stirrups. All the while, he hoped his horse wouldn't freak out once he made his move.

"Move, mestizo," the guard said as he positioned his horse right alongside his and shoved the butt of his rifle in the small of his back.

As soon as he felt the rifle connecting with his back, Johnny grabbed the pommel and ignoring the pain he felt, hoisted himself by putting pressure on his arms and his hands and kicked with both legs toward the guard, taking him unaware. The force of his kick had been enough to knock the wind out of the guard. Johnny kicked again, harder. He didn't have much time and he needed to get rid of the first guard and then to take care of the other one, all this before Santiago realized something was wrong and came back.

His second kick unsettled the guard's horse, which started bucking. Making sure his aim was still right, Johnny kicked the man a third time, right in the head, and sent him toppling over the edge of the ravine.

The man's horse, once freed from his charge, turned away but the second guard and his horse blocked his path. He barreled into the second horse that reared high, throwing off the man who was desperately trying to stay on his back. Johnny saw the guard finally lose his fight and fall to the ground. As if in slow motion, the horse brought down his hooves right on him and whinnied loudly as he trampled the guard to death, leaving him a mass of blood and crushed bones. Then the two horses fled the scene. In a matter of a few minutes, it was all over.

Speaking soothingly to his horse, Johnny quickly calmed him down, making sure he wouldn't throw him off too. The young gunfighter's hands were still bound and now he had to get the hell out of this place before Santiago returned.

As he turned the horse and was about to kick his heels into the animal's flanks, Johnny heard a gun being cocked. He stopped right in his tracks and straightened his back.

"You gonna shoot me in the back, Tío?"

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult, Juanito?"

"Oh, you know me, Tío. I was never good at taking orders," Johnny said, shrugging his shoulders as he made his horse turn to face the man.

Santiago laughed bitterly and shook his head. "No, you never were. Your mother used to pester you about that."

Johnny nodded, smiling a little, remembering how his mama used to get mad at him whenever he was disobeying. "Now what?"

Santiago sighed. "What do you want me to do with you?"

"Set me free, maybe," Johnny answered, looking directly into the eyes of the man who was still mounted and positioned a few feet from him.

Santiago was holding Johnny's gun and it was aimed directly at the young gunfighter's heart. But, Johnny knew he wouldn't fire. So, maybe he had a chance, if he played his cards right.

"I wish I could. I really do, Juanito, but he would have my head if I were to set you free this time."

"I understand, Tío."

Slowly, Johnny pushed his horse closer to Santiago's horse that moved a bit to the side. That made Santiago move the gun slightly but it was enough for Johnny to make his move. He couldn't believe Santiago had been careless enough to move closer to the ravine instead of closer to the wall of rocks.

Johnny brought his hands to his left side, trusting his horse not to throw him or make an unexpected move, and he viciously elbowed Santiago. The man was so surprised that the gun he was holding fell out of his hand and landed on the ground with a thump and went off.

The loud report was reverberated in the mountain. The horses were so frightened that they started to buck wildly. Both Johnny and Santiago were thrown off and were unable to retain the beasts as they passed them and moved away from them and down the path, in the direction they had come from.

Johnny and Santiago looked at each other for a split second and spied the gun that was lying a few feet from them. They both crawled in its direction but the Mexican was slightly faster and got hold of the gun before Johnny could. Once again, the young gunfighter ended up facing his own gun.

"I had to try," he offered, with a sheepish smile.

"I know. I'd have done the same," Santiago answered, panting. "Get up, we've lost enough time as it is."

"I'm sorry, Tío." Johnny said as he gathered his feet under him and painfully managed to get up. "I can't let you take me."

As soon as he finished saying this, Johnny butted Santiago in the stomach with his head. The gun fell from Santiago's hand once again while he was propelled backward. Unable to grip anything, he fell over the edge of the ravine. His scream of horror echoing for what seemed hours as his body fell many feet below to finally land with a crush at the bottom of the ravine.

Johnny fell to the ground, on his knees and started retching.

/ /

Way before he got to the last part of his story, Johnny had started pacing back and forth in front of the couch, under the watchful eyes of the cat. When he fell on the floor, clutching his stomach and heaving miserably, Jeremy was sure he was about to lose his dinner. His face had turned an ashen color. His eyes were not focused and he looked so stricken that Jeremy felt compelled to rush to his side and hold him.

Surprisingly, the young gunfighter didn't move away from Jeremy's touch. Instead, he leant into his friend's chest until he stopped shaking.

"I… I never intended to kill him, Jeremy. Never!" he finally was able to say, his voice choking on the words.

"I know, Johnny, I know. Why don't you come in the next room and lie down a bit?"

"No! I'm not finished with the story."

"It can wait."

"No. Let me finish. Please. I need to get it said and now."

Jeremy helped Johnny back onto his feet and motioned for him to sit down on the couch again. Grabbing a glass, he poured another shot of tequila and gave it to the shaking young man sitting in front of him.

"Thanks, I… needed it," The young man said, gulping the contents down and setting the glass onto the top of the table.

He peered at Jeremy and finally lowered his gaze to lock his eyes onto his hands. Then, he resumed his story.

"I realized I had to get out of there quickly. I was pretty sure El Capitán had heard the shot and would be coming. I guess I was lucky, in a way, because when I turned to head down the path, I saw my horse waiting for me.

"I've not had him for a long time, but he's a good horse, almost as good as Star was. Once I got near him, I calmed him down further and vaulted on his back. Just as I was about to kick my heels into his flanks, I turned and saw that I had been right to hurry. At the top of the path, there was El Capitán standing."

"What did he do? Did he chase you?"

"Not immediately. We kind of looked at each other for a long time. Then, I turned tail and ran with my horse. It was too dangerous for Lopez to come down the path at full speed. So, I took that time to put as much distance as I could between him and I.

"I rode at breakneck speed for as long as my horse could. Then I slowed down and when I realized El Capitán wasn't chasing after me, I took things a little easier. Don't quite know why he didn't go after me while he had the chance," Johnny snorted. "But I sure didn't waste any more time than absolutely necessary.

"I still had my hands bound but at least I also had my gun that I had picked up off the ground, after Tío fell in the ravine. I rode for another few hours until I reached a small hovel near the border. There, an old man cut the ropes binding my wrists and gave me food and water. He gave oats to my horse. He provided me with a canteen full of fresh water and some bread and sent me on my way."

"And you finally made it here," Jeremy added.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Señor Gringo. I didn't want to bother you with that."

"You're not a bother, Johnny. Now, I think you should rest, you're totally exhausted boy."

"Yeah, I know. I'll rent a room at the hotel."

"No way. You'll stay here for a few days and I don't want to hear any excuses. Listen to reason, for once in your life."

Johnny raised his head and examined his friend. He could only read concern in the older man's eyes, and with a heavy sigh he got up and allowed Jeremy to lead him into the bedroom. He truly was exhausted, more than he thought he'd be after his crazy ride in the desert.

The lawman left him alone after making sure he would indeed go to bed. Once on his own, Johnny removed his boots and his clothes and left everything in a pile on the floor. He climbed in the bed and he fell into a deep slumber as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Jeremy waited about half an hour before returning silently in the bedroom. He gathered Johnny's clothes and took them with him to wash them. When he returned, he moved a big chair near the bed and settled down for the night, watching his young friend.

"Sleep well, amigo. I'll be watching your back."

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 25

Murdoch woke up with a start. For a moment he felt disoriented until he remembered where he was and what today would bring. He checked his watch and realized it was almost four-thirty. He figured Scott and Val were either already awake or about to be as they were supposed to leave around five-thirty, right after taking a quick breakfast at one of the local cafés that opened very early.

The older man hurriedly went to the washstand and proceeded to take care of his morning ablutions. Once he was done, he knocked on the adjoining door of their bedrooms and heard a loud grunt. After a few minutes, the door creaked open and Val struck his head out.

Murdoch hardly repressed a chuckle. Val looked anything but in the best of shape. In fact, he looked like someone who had hardly slept. His eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard and his hair was sticking in all directions. No matter how many times he tried to smooth his hair in place, it was no use and Murdoch couldn't help but smile at his vain attempt. It definitely reminded him of his younger son and pangs of sadness overcame him. Quickly, he brushed those feelings off not wanting to show how much Johnny's disappearance was affecting him.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure. We're almost done," Scott answered from where he was standing near the washstand.

"Speak for yourself," Val said, as he opened the door wider and turned back to go sit on his bed.

This time, when Murdoch saw the state of the bed, he laughed out loud. "What happened, Val? Did you have a fight with your bed sheets?

Val only grunted, passed his hands over his face and then rubbed his eyes furiously.

"You look like hell," Murdoch continued as he made his way inside the room to finally sit on Scott's bed. "What's the matter with you?"

"Ask Scott," the man groaned. "If he's done with his 'toilet' as he calls it, then maybe I can make mine. Then we can get going. Time's a wasting."

Murdoch looked questioningly at his son who was grinning ear to ear and was seemingly not disturbed by the sheriff's outburst.

"Oh, don't worry, Murdoch. He's just a grumpy old man when he wakes up," Scott answered as he moved away from the washstand to let Val use it.

"Old man? Old man? The last one that called me that ended up facing me in a dusty street," Val said, as he got up off the bed and walked menacingly toward Scott.

"And who was the lucky fellow?" Scott asked, moving away from the washstand.

"Your brother. That was in…" Val started to say only to stop when seeing the victorious grin on Scott's face.

"So, that's how you two met, uh?"

Val nodded and snorted. "Happy now?"

"Nope. I still want the whole story."

"To hell with your story. You already kept me awake part of the night first with a few card games because you were not sleepy and then with your endless questions," the sheriff answered as he finally got in front of the spot Scott had just left.

"What questions?" Murdoch wanted to know.

"He wanted me to tell him the story of my life."

"Val Crawford, if I may respectfully remind you, you were glad to oblige."

"Respectfully, huh? Well, maybe… for that part. But then, you kept pushing me about how I met Johnny, how old he was and what we've done while we rode together."

"And? What's wrong with that?" asked Murdoch, seriously.

"Ain't any of his business. If Johnny hasn't told him by now it's because he doesn't want to," Val responded, a little more harshly then he would have liked. "Me, I just want to find him and once I do, I'll kill him myself," he continued, more softly, as he filled the washstand with clean water.

"Well, you'll have to stand in line, Sheriff. I'm taking the first turn," Murdoch deadpanned.

"And me the second," Scott said.

Val stopped his vain attempt at smoothing his hair and looked up in the glass. He could see both the Lancer patriarch and Scott hovering nearby. He splashed some water in his face, grabbed a clean towel and dried himself. Then, slowly, he turned toward the Lancers who were now both sitting on the edge of Scott's bed.

"I'm sorry," he said with a sheepish grin. "It's just that he… He means so much to me. You have no idea."

"That's why I was asking those questions, Val," Scott said, more seriously this time. "I'm sorry I was such a bother."

"You're not and I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have jumped down your throat like I did. Johnny has saved my sorry hide more than once and I consider him like my brother. I'd do anything to help him, absolutely anything."

"Maybe if you agreed to talk to me about those times you rode with him…" started Scott, "… Well, what I mean to say is that maybe together we can figure out what he's gonna do once he's on the other side of the border."

"Alright, alright, Scott Lancer. I'll tell you a bedtime story or two once we're on the road," Val said, throwing his hands in the air. "But don't complain afterwards if my stories don't live up to your expectations."

Scott smiled in triumph while Murdoch cleared his throat and slowly got up from the bed. "Well, gentlemen, if you're all done, I think we should head over to the café and have our breakfast. It's getting late. I'll see you off afterwards."

Forty-five minutes later, having taken a hearty breakfast, the two men were ready to go. True to his words, Murdoch went with them to the livery and watched them go, not without reiterating his instructions as to how he was expecting to be kept informed of their progress, whether or not they had news of the younger Lancer.

/ / / / /

After he finished his meal, Johnny agreed to play a few hands of poker and share a few drinks with the brothers and a couple of passengers. Less than two hours later, he excused himself and told the brothers he would sleep outside, pretexting the place was too crowded for his taste.

The owner of the way station gave him a couple of blankets and shortly afterwards Johnny made his way to the barn. Once there, he gathered a pile of fresh hay and made as comfortable a bed as he could. But, sleep kept evading him.

Instead, whenever he closed his eyes, visions of the time he had spent with Flor and her family came visiting him. After a few more attempts to sleep, he let go and let the memories flood back into his heart and his mind.

/

He thought he had seen an angel out there, in the desert. And that angel wanted to save his life and take him out of that forsaken desert. It was funny because that same desert had often been a place he had considered as friendly, where he had hidden from the entire world until such time as he would be ready once again to face his destiny. But it couldn't possibly have been an angel. No, it was just a dream, as he knew perfectly well that he wasn't worth saving. No matter how much good he'd try to do lately, his soul was blackened by those couple of years of free killings he'd done when he'd started in the business. He was bad, as bad as a rotten apple. Heck, maybe his mama's men had been right after all. Maybe they had all seen through him and his black heart. He deserved nothing more than being trashed about and then, killed.

In Hell… that's where he was. That's why he felt so hot. That's it. He was dead and was now rotting in Hell. The Devil had finally come to claim his due. And the place was so damn hot. But… Wait a second! What was that he just felt on his forehead? Something soothing and wonderfully cool like… like a cold compress. Would there be anything that refreshing in Hell? No, probably not. So maybe he wasn't quite there yet. But, where was he if he wasn't in Hell?

Slowly, awareness of his surroundings returned. He fought to open his eyes but they were stubbornly refusing to obey his command. Then he heard her voice – his angel's voice right beside his ear. He could feel her sweet breath on the side of his face and it felt good. Never would he forget her voice, no matter what. Never would he forget her name either, Flor.

"Adelantado, ábrete los ojos. Que él. Estás haciendo bien." (Come on, open your eyes. That's it. You're doing well.")

He struggled and finally was able to open his eyes only to shut them again, as a deep moan escaped his lips. The light in the room was too bright and he couldn't stand it. He let pass a few minutes and chancing it, he opened his eyes again, but only fractionally. His angel had gone from his side and was now standing near a window. She pulled the drapes closed and came back to sit by his side.

He looked at her, curiously. She was a little older than he remembered but not yet thirty, more like twenty-four or twenty-five. Her face was oval and her dark hair was gathered in a single braid, which was hanging on the front of her left shoulder down to her waist. Her eyes were kind and a very deep velvety brown. He felt reassured and tried to speak.

With her left hand, she put two fingers on his mouth. "Not yet. Stay calm. My brother and my husband will come back soon. They've gone to fetch the doctor."

"Doctor?" he croaked, surprised at the hoarseness of his voice.

"Shhh, don't try to speak yet. We followed Señor Castaneda's men when they took you with them. They've beaten you within an inch of your life and left you to die in the desert."

"I…"

"Shhh. Please, don't speak. Here, drink this but just a little bit or else you will be sick," she said, holding his head so he could take a sip of the cool water she was offering him from the cup she brought to his lips.

Then, she helped him lie down again and turned to fetch something on the nightstand – a small jar –, which she opened. She dipped a finger in it and covered his dried lips with a soothing balm.

"Try not to lick your lips right away."

Johnny nodded and closed his eyes once again. He felt safe, at least for the time being and let himself fall back into oblivion, murmuring the name of his angel.

The next time he woke up was to find an older very kind-looking man by his side. He didn't quite know how long he had slept but it didn't really matter. He had the feeling he was in good hands and had nothing to fear. He just didn't know for how long – long enough for him to recuperate he hoped.

"You're… doctor?"

"Yes, I am Doctor Pedro Ramírez. Now, young man, don't move while I examine you."

"You're not…"

"… Mexican? No, I'm not… well, actually I am Spanish."

"Oh," Johnny simply said, closing his eyes once again, too weak to try to pretend otherwise. Meekly, he let the doctor do his exam, trying to stay as still as possible, which was hard considering he hardly could find any position in which he felt comfortable.

The man removed the blanket that covered him and gasped at the sight he was met with. The boy's chest and arms were covered with dark bruises of varying sizes. From his talk with Flor, he knew the boy had been stabbed on his left thigh, that the wound was very deep and that the blood loss was important. She had done the best she could by cleaning and disinfecting the wound and then covering it with a clean bandage.

The bruises could wait; there wasn't much he could do about them aside from applying a poultice. The knife wound, however, was another matter altogether. As gently as possible, he removed the soiled bandaged to have a look at the wound. The blood was still seeping and what he saw, once he cleaned the wound again, took his breath away. The laceration was six inches long, a little more than one inch wide and at least four inches deep. He could even see right down to the bone. It was obvious that whoever had inflicted the wound to the boy's leg had done so to do as much damage as possible.

As soon as he started cleaning the deep cut, the boy's eyes had jerked open and he had let out a scream. Then, he thrashed wildly until he finally passed out. It had taken the help of Flor's husband and brothers to restrain the young patient and stop him from hurting himself even more.

It was only a few hours after that Johnny finally regained his senses. Once again, he woke up to find Flor by his side.

"F…Flor?"

"¿Recuerdas mi nombre?" ("You remember my name?")

"Si. Me llamo…" ("Yes. My name is…")

"Sé quién eres." ("I know who you are.")

"¿Haces? ¿Cómo?" ("You do? How?") he asked, as he tried to change position.

Flor immediately helped him up a little bit and put a couple of pillows behind his back to support him. She then gave him some water. "My younger brother told me," she answered. "He told us you saved him a few months ago. His name is Ramon Alvarado."

"Ah, Ramon! Si, I remember. He… The rurales captured him… and they were about to… lynch him." As he said so, he closed his eyes, already exhausted.

Flor forced him to lay down once again and gently chastised him.

"You shouldn't try to do too much too soon. You've lost a lot of blood and need to rest."

"How bad?"

"Knife wound to your left thigh, three cracked ribs, lots of deep bruises, a mild head wound. Doctor Ramírez has given strict orders for you to stay in bed for at least five days."

"Five days?"

"Yes. And believe me, you better obey him. He has a very mean temper."

"He has no right telling me what to do, nobody does," Johnny started saying, his eyes flashing dangerously while he tried to get up.

Flor backed off a bit and was about to call for help when Johnny realized he was being foolish.

"Lo siento, señorita Castillo. I'm really sorry. I…"

"It's alright, señor Madrid, it's alright. I understand."

"It's Johnny. Please, call me Johnny or… Juanito, if you prefer."

"I will but only if you call me Flor."

Johnny smiled and nodded before continuing. "Okay. But, I shouldn't have said that. I know you're all trying to help. The shame is on me."

"Don't say that. I know young men like you don't like to feel helpless. You're safe here, at least for now.

"Did you cover your tracks?"

"Yes, we did," said a deep masculine voice coming from the left side of the room.

Flor moved from the bedside to let a middle-aged man take her place beside the young gunfighter. The man was tall and well built. His hair was cut short and he wore a mustache. He was dressed in the accustomed white pants and shirt of the peons but his garments were spotless. Although he was a peon, he had an air of grandeur about him and Johnny immediately felt a kind of power coming from the man.

"I'm Esteban, Flor's husband."

"I'm –,"

"– Johnny Madrid, I know. We're indebted to you."

"No, I am. You saved my life in the desert."

"Speaking of this, what you did back in the village was foolish," Esteban continued, barely acknowledging the words Johnny said with a nod. "You shouldn't have tackled Señor Castaneda alone."

"I… only wanted to help. This man, he is… he is El Diablo. What he's doing isn't right."

"We all know that but there's nothing we can do. We're only poor peons. We work the field for men such as Castaneda."

"But, you have rights. They can't just… strip you of everything you have. It's not right." Johnny answered, getting himself in a high state of agitation.

Flor rushed to the other side of the bed and put her hand on his chest. Johnny looked at her, in defiance at first, daring her to say something but she didn't. She had no need saying anything as her eyes spoke volumes. Finally, he lowered his eyes and dipped his head. Then, he raised his head again and smiled at her.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I get carried away when I witness things like that."

"You could have gotten killed. You know that, don't you." Esteban said

"Si. But these men, those like Castaneda and Lopez, they're… they're bastar…" Johnny started to say but stopped short upon seeing the look of reprobation in Flor's eyes. "Lo siento, Flor. I didn't mean to…"

"Don't worry about that. She's giving me and her brothers that look all the time, too, whenever we say what she considers a bad word," Esteban said, laughing.

Johnny burst out laughing, too, until the pain in his ribs reminded him he shouldn't do that. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I can't stay here," he finally said, as he reopened his eyes a few minutes later.

"You have no choice. The doctor's orders are very clear. You can't move," Flor said.

"You don't understand. It's dangerous for you. If Castaneda finds out you've helped me or worst, if Capitán Lopez does –"

"They won't. Nobody saw us taking you here," Flor countered.

"Beside, I'm the head of this village. Nobody will betray your presence here."

Johnny examined Esteban and Flor carefully. All he could see was a strong desire to help him because they thought they owed him something. He shook his head; they really had no idea how dangerous it was for them to help him. But how could he dissuade them?

He was in no condition to move out and he knew it. He couldn't breathe properly because of the cracked ribs and there was no way he could walk out, not with a bum leg. He needed to rest, at least for a couple of days. It's not that he wasn't grateful for the opportunity he was given, he was, but he was afraid his being here in their home would result in problems for them in the long run.

/

Johnny was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't hear the owner of the way station until he was almost upon him.

"Mr. Lancer, it's breakfast time. Are you coming?" the man called.

"Yeah. Give me a minute," Johnny said, yawning.

He got up, folded the blankets and took them with him back to the station. He left them on a bench outside, near the back entrance, and made his way into the building. He knew he looked anything but rested but that couldn't be helped. He'd try to sleep in the stage, even if it was with one eye open. It would be better than nothing.

Thinking about Flor and her family had made him realize he needed to respond to her call. What had happened once he had been healed made it impossible for him not to. He shook his head, now wasn't the time to remember those events. If he did, he wouldn't be able to eat and he needed his strength. He stored the memories in the back of his mind for the time being, promising himself he'd revisit later. That might help him get ready for whatever was awaiting him in Mexico.

The passengers finished with their breakfast and less than half an hour later they were ready to continue their trip. Johnny took his place inside the stage, near the window, telling the brothers he would climb on top with them later on, at their next stop. He wasn't quite in the mood to converse with the brothers and he hoped the other passengers wouldn't insist on talking to him. He desperately needed a bit of shuteye and he had every intention of doing so. So, he settled down in his corner and as soon as the coach pulled out of the station, he put his hat down to hide his eyes.

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 26

It was too early to make any social calls, so Murdoch went back to the hotel and made arrangements to change rooms. He wouldn't need the adjoining rooms he had booked the previous night. The clerk followed him and waited while he collected his saddle bags, then took the old key, for which Murdoch was grateful. Truth be told, his back still pained him and he knew it would be too much to ask for him to keep going up and down those stairs right now.

Once in his new room, Murdoch put his saddlebags on the small table near the window and removed his jacket, which he placed on the back of the chair. The room was smaller than the previous one but still spacious enough for a man of his stature.

God, he was tired. Though he had tried to hide it, he knew he had not fooled his son or the sheriff. Scott was getting very good at reading him. With his younger son, it was more a battle of wills than any type of reading, on either part. Johnny had always had a very strong personality, even when he was a toddler. With thoughts of his blue-eyed whirlwind in mind, he lay down on the bed and fell asleep.

He woke up a couple of hours later feeling better. He shaved, which he had given up earlier, and once he felt somewhat presentable, he finally left his room, gently shutting and locking the door behind him. He was still feeling some pain in his lower back that radiated along his leg, but it was more bearable than what he had experienced on the road. Back there, the intensity of the pain had made him realize it was foolish to try to go on. No, as much as he wanted to be the one to find Johnny, he would have to trust Scott and Val, and Jeremy also, to find him and bring him back, hopefully before any harm was done to him.

Once downstairs, Murdoch went immediately to the front counter. As he'd expected, it wasn't the same person who was there. This time, it was a young man about twenty-five years old, impeccably dressed in the official attire of the hotel – a dark blue uniform.

"Hello. I'm Murdoch Lancer, room 6. Would Señor Medina be here?"

The clerk looked at him, worry clearly expressed on his face. "Is there something wrong with your accommodation, Mr. Lancer?" he politely enquired.

"No. No, nothing wrong. I'm an acquaintance of Señor Medina and was just wondering if I could see him. If he's around, that is."

"Right now, no. But he should be back at lunch time. Would you like me to tell him you've been looking for him?"

"Yes, if you please. Tell him I'll be back for lunch. If he's free, I'd like him to join me."

"I will make sure to let him know, Mr. Lancer. Have a great time in Los Angeles and in our hotel."

"Thank you," Murdoch said, turning to go.

Once outside, he blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the difference in light. Although it was only a little past nine o'clock, the sunlight was already bright, promising another hot day. He stepped down onto the boardwalk and went in the direction of the telegraph office.

The office had just opened but there were already a a few people waiting in line. To pass the time, he grabbed a copy of the local newspaper and started to peruse it. Twenty minutes later, he was in front of the telegraph operator, writing the message he wanted to send to Teresa and Jelly. He handed it over to the operator and after paying, went immediately outside.

Since it was still too early to go back to the hotel for lunch, Murdoch decided to take a walk around to see what new businesses had opened since his last visit more than eighteen months ago. Eventually, his steps took him to the livery where he stopped to have a look at Shadow and his own horse. He spent about an hour there, talking to the livery owner. Then, he slowly made his way back to the hotel.

/ / / / /

In his cell, Johnny spent his time walking in circles or lying on the hard packed ground, deeply absorbed in his thoughts. After El Capitán's departure, he first had fallen into a very dark mood. Then his survival instincts had kicked in and he had decided to take his destiny back in his own hands, so to speak. There wasn't much he could do about being held prisoner, even about Capitán Lopez's threats to finish what had been started two years ago, when he was facing the firing squad. Hell, he knew he was on borrowed time – had been for years, even before his fortunate escape two years ago – but he could at least take everything in stride and make the best of what seemed like a hopeless situation. One thing was certain, he would not let his enemy see how desperate he really was.

Johnny had come to realize he had always had mixed feelings where El Capitán was concerned. He hated him but he also felt something akin to respect for him. It had always stopped him from killing the man whenever he had had the opportunity. And strangely enough, once or twice, it had been enough for El Capitán to spare him too. The young rancher was realistic enough to understand that killing Santiago had probably changed all that. This time, El Capitán wouldn't spare him.

His steps took him to the far side of his cell, across from the entrance, and he let himself slide down along the dirty wall. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander to that week he had spent, hiding in Flor's house and which had led to the first time when Capitán Lopez had spared him.

/

He had been staying with the Castillos for about ten days. The first two days there had been no problem as he'd mostly been in and out of awareness. The doctor had extended the bed rest period by another few days instead of the first five he had originally prescribed. And now that it was coming to an end, he was starting to feel as if the walls were closing in on him – a feeling he definitely didn't like.

Esteban was sitting beside his bed and and the two of them were absorbed in a heated discussion.

"I have to go. Don't you understand Esteban?"

"You are not fully recovered yet. It would be stupid to leave now."

"Maybe," Johnny responded, as he got up and tentatively tried to put weight on his bad leg. "But…"

"You stay here. For now, there is no danger."

"There will be. As soon as Castaneda learns I'm here – and sooner or later he will – he'll send the rurales and once they come, you know what will happen."

"And your point is?"

"You should not have taken me in. This is too dangerous for you. The rurales, they're a bunch of cut-throats, particularly those led by Jose Eduardo Lopez," Johnny continued, as he dropped heavily on one of the chairs by the table and sighed.

It was the longest distance he had covered since the doctor gave him permission to start moving around earlier that day. He knew he was being difficult but waiting was getting on his nerves. He hated feeling so helpless.

Esteban snorted. "El Capitán Lopez is always hungry. He and Castaneda are working hand in hand —"

"— and I plan to put an end to their partnership."

"How will you do that, Johnny? You're just a kid alone."

"I'm not a kid. Haven't been for years," the young gunfighter retorted, his still too pale face coloring slightly. "I'm Johnny Madrid, pistolero, and I'm real good at what I'm doing. People fear me and my gun."

"We know what you are, niño. It is true that a few years ago, you were as ruthless as most of the others in your trade. I remember your name was spoken in fear and people hated you – WE hated you. But you have changed. Many of us speak well of you now. And deep down, I see a young man with a good heart who doesn't hesitate to help people in need."

"I am the same man. I have not gone soft."

"No one said you've gone soft. I am just saying that your heart is not blackened to the point of no return. Not yet, but…"

"How can you say that? The Devil and I, we made a bargain a long time ago. He's got a good grip on my soul and there's no way I can escape his clutches. One day, he will claim his due and there's nothing I'll be able to do."

"That comes to us all, whether the Devil or God comes to claim us."

"No, you don't understand. I'm —"

"Then why do you help the poor? Why do you work for people who can hardly pay you when you're one of the most expensive pistoleros on either side of the border?" Flor suddenly asked.

Upon hearing her voice, Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin. He was so engrossed in his conversation with Esteban that he had forgotten she was still in the room with them. She was standing near the window and he had to slightly turn his head to see her.

"My reasons for doing it don't really matter. Thing is, the longer I stay here, the more dangerous it is for you. I don't want to be responsible for your death. I don't need anybody to help me do what I'm planning to do."

"That's where you are mistaken, niño," Esteban said, disregarding the look of outrage Johnny wore plainly on his face when he called him 'niño' again. "A very good friend told me one day that a man alone cannot change things, but if we unite we can gain at least some respect. If all of us in the villages under the rule of the three most powerful hacendados unite, we will make things change. They will have to listen to us. The government will have to listen."

Johnny smiled, in spite of himself. He could see Roberto's hand in this. "And who would that friend be?" he asked, still smiling.

"I am not allowed to disclose his name but I think you know him and he certainly knows about you."

"Roberto," Johnny murmured softly.

Esteban smiled and nodded. "He has been trying for years to make us understand that but we have been too afraid to make a move even though we know he is right. Roberto knows how greedy the hacendados and the corrupted rurales are. What Señor Castaneda doesn't take from us, the rurales do. And the same goes for the peons in the villages that fall under the rule of hacendados such as Gomez, Ramirez and Espinoza. But you already know that."

"What made you change your mind then?"

"You."

"Me? I don't understand."

"About nine months ago, some hacendados south of here hired a few pistoleros to help them fight in a land dispute against another hacendado. You were among those they hired."

"Ah yes! I remember. Gomez and Ramirez, right?"

"You all came to a small town one afternoon and some of the men started to bully an old man. You remember that?"

Johnny nodded as he remembered the old man Esteban was talking about. He had watched his fellow pistoleros get more and more drunk, until they had found themselves a poor old man to pick on. The fun had ended when one of them had drawn his gun on the old man and Johnny had taken a stand. The gunhawk had died and Johnny had left soon afterwards.

"You stood against them with no regards for your own safety."

"You were there? And you knew who I was?"

"Yes. I was inside the mercantile with Flor and one of my brothers, watching. Old Diego – that's the name of the old man you helped – is a very good friend of my father. That day, we realized that Johnny Madrid was different than those other pistoleros. You inspired some of us. We thought that if you could stand against a bunch of mean pistoleros, we could stand against the hacendados and make our demands."

"And then," Flor continued, "five months ago my brother came back with a tale of how you had saved him. We promised ourselves that if you ever came back around here, we would do everything in our power to help you, no matter what. Now, the day has come."

Johnny dipped his head, blushing. He was used to being cursed by most of the people he had met. His blue eyes made him the perfect target as they showed very clearly his mixed heritage – and mestizos were not welcome, on either side of the border. All his younger years, he had been ostracized by most of the other children as well as by the adults. He had been beaten until he had learned how to defend himself. And he had learned very early on… First with his fists and his feet, then with a knife – he was as good with a knife as he was with a gun. He also felt comfortable using both his hands with a knife. So, to hear these people praise him was strange to his ears. It both pleased and displeased him. He didn't want to owe anybody anything and he didn't quite know how to react.

"Still, what I have in mind is not for people like you."

"Our minds are made up, niño. We will help you in any way we can."

Johnny sighed. Try as he might, he didn't see any way to convince Eduardo not to get in this mess with him. Then, looking more attentively at Flor, he suddenly realized she was with child. Maybe Eduardo would listen to reason for her sake.

"Eduardo, your wife is expecting a child. You should be with her… not riding with me."

Flor and Eduardo looked at each other, an unspoken current passing between them. Then, they both faced the young gunfighter.

"Flor will stay behind with her sisters. My brothers and I will go with you and so will Flor's brothers. Nothing you can say will dissuade us. It's about time we did something about how they treat us."

Within a couple of days, Johnny found himself very busy devising a plan with the Castillos and the Alvarados brothers. Six weeks after his rescue, they were ready to start making El Capitán's and Castaneda's lives miserable.

/ / / / /

Murdoch was only a few yards away from the hotel when he saw Alejandro Medina coming from the opposite direction. He tried to walk faster but soon, it became evident that he wouldn't be able to reach the hotel owner before the man disappeared in the hotel entrance.

"Señor Medina," Murdoch's booming voice echoed across the street.

Alejandro Medina stopped dead in his tracks and turned toward the sound of that voice – a voice he recognized easily. The hotel owner waited on his side of the street for the Lancer patriarch to reach him.

"Señor Lancer," he said, once Murdoch reached him. "What a nice surprise! I wasn't expecting to see you so soon."

Murdoch looked at him curiously before shaking hands. After exchanging a couple of pleasantries, the two men finally reached the hotel just as Murdoch was telling Alejandro that they had arrived the evening before.

"We?"

"Yes. My son Scott and Val Crawford, the sheriff of Green River. We took a couple of rooms in your hotel. They left early this morning and I've stayed behind. My back is still giving me trouble now and then and I just couldn't continue with them. I've decided to stay here for a few days. And since I'm here, I thought we could have lunch together and share stories."

Alejandro laughed and looked visibly pleased. Once again, Murdoch wondered again why he looked so happy to see him. After greeting the clerk, Alejandro took Murdoch to what looked like a small private section at the far end of the restaurant. While Murdoch took a seat, he went into the kitchen and returned shortly after. Soon, a lovely waitress brought them cold refreshments as well as fresh tortillas and salsa.

"So, what brings you to Los Angeles, Murdoch? It's been what… 18 months or so since your last visit, hasn't it?"

Murdoch nodded. "Time flies," he responded, smiling.

"You mentioned your son, Scott and a sheriff. Pardon me but you arouse my curiosity. Why would a lawman accompany you?"

"It's a long story. You see, we're trying to find my younger son, Johnny. He left without a word but according to the sheriff, who's a long-time friend of Johnny, it seems my son has left to help some folks he's met while he was in Mexico."

"Ah! So you're worrying about the young one then?" Alejandro said, chuckling lightly.

Murdoch nodded once again and shook his head. "Well, that boy has a knack for finding trouble. You know who he was, before he came back home. I told you the last time I came."

"Yes. It is common knowledge now. Do you really expect him to find trouble down south? It's been a while since he came back to live with you and changed his life around."

"Let's say he isn't welcome in Mexico. What you may not know is that the Pinkerton agent that found him for me bribed the rurales. Johnny was a few seconds away from being executed for taking part in that peons' revolution that took place a little while ago."

Alejandro's face fell. He knew about the failed revolution and the young gunfighter who had risked his life for the peons. He had heard about the subsequent capture of the young man and his prison sentence. He was not aware, though, that the Mexican authorities had decided to execute him.

He had thought that Murdoch had obtained a pardon and got him discharged from prison. Alejandro shook his head. He knew how hard life could be for the peons – he had been in various border towns and deep into the Mexican territory and had seen it for himself. Many of the hacendados were treating the peons like slaves. Many also had associated themselves with the rurales – who he considered nothing less than a bunch of outlaws who were hiding behind the law to commit their atrocities. They collected taxes from the peons in the name of the hacendados and then they would come back for whatever little the peons still had. Of course, not all rurales were bad – only a few actually. But there were enough of them to give a bad name to the rest.

He hadn't been surprised when he had heard that many peons had presented a united front and fought for their freedom. What had surprised him was that a gunfighter of Johnny Madrid's renown had fought alongside them. And what had saddened him beyond words was that the revolution had failed and that a lot of good people had died. Now things were back to what they were before – the peons were exploited and still had next to nothing for their own use.

"And he's gone back there? Are you sure?"

"The sheriff thinks so. He knows about the person who sent Johnny the message and he's quite positive that's where my boy is heading."

"But why would he go back to a place where he's liable to get killed?"

"That's just it. I believe he probably thinks he owes them. I don't know what exactly and I intend to find out. What I fear, though, is that this is a set-up."

"Murdoch, maybe we should talk to my daughter."

"Tierra? She's back?"

"Yes. She came back about a year ago. She and Johnny spent some time together."

"What?" Murdoch said.

"Don't worry, my friend. They were chaperoned. They were never alone."

"And who chaperoned them, if I may ask?"

"My niece Mara was with them all the time."

"She was? That's strange, Alejandro, because yesterday we stopped by the stage depot and Mara was tending the counter. I asked her if she had seen a young black haired caballero lately and she assured us she hadn't."

"That is strange, indeed, Murdoch. I saw the three of them heading over to the stage depot. Your son took the afternoon stage. Hmmm, maybe I shall get Mara and Tierra to join us and we'll see what they have to say to that. Besides, Tierra may know something about your son's plans. It might help you narrow down your search."

"It's a good idea. Thank you, Alejandro."

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 27

Jose Eduardo Lopez was a bitter man. The fiasco of two years ago in this same place when Madrid had escaped had cost him a promotion which had been, in his opinion, way overdue. If everything had gone according to plan, he would be a colonel now. But no, his men had allowed themselves to be bribed by an Americano and, as a result, had let the young rebel go free. To their credit though, they had changed their mind – no doubt because they feared his wrath – and tried to kill both the Americano and their former prisoner. They had miserably failed. Instead, a few of them were killed in the exchange of shots that had taken place between them and the young pistolero. And once he had discovered what his men had done, he had personally taken care of the few simpletons that had survived.

Naturally, his superiors had put the blame for the failed execution and the loss of his men solely on his shoulders and the promotion went right under his nose to land on the doorstep of his cousin Francisco, a good for nothing cobarde, a man who was afraid of his own shadow. On top of that, he had also been demoted and was now only a teniente, a simple lieutenant. He had become the laughing stock of the whole county and that's something that didn't quite sit well with him. Losing face had been a terrible blow for his ego.

He had vowed to get his revenge against the young mestizo and to make him pay very dearly for everything he had cost him, both professionally and personally. Through the years, he had entered in a lucrative business relationship with his brother in law, Santiago. But, a little over three and a half years ago, it had come to an abrupt end as the little mestizo bastardo had ruthlessly killed his associate. Although he had found someone to replace Santiago, it wasn't quite the same. And besides, the usefullness of that person was coming to an end. Soon, he wouldn't need him anymore.

Since the demise of Santiago, he had had to endure his sister's recriminations over and over again. But now that Madrid was his prisoner to do with as he pleased, she would certainly be thrilled. He was even thinking of having her come to witness the execution of her husband's murderer. Come to think of it, he might even let her participate in it. And this time, he would not repeat the mistake he had made before. He would not let his feelings for the boy's mother come between him and his prey.

/ / / / /

Scott and Val had covered quite a distance already. Most of the time, they had ridden in complete silence, oblivious to the beauty of the nature surrounding them. Both were lost in their thoughts and if they were to compare them, they would realize they all revolved around the missing young man.

"Val?"

"Yeah?"

"How about we stop in the next town we come across? We shouldn't push the horses as much as we've done so far."

"You're right," Val conceded reluctantly, without looking at the younger man. "Next town is only a few miles from here. It's a bit off the stage route so I don't reckon we'll find out much about Johnny."

"The way I see it, Val, we don't have much of a choice. The horses are getting too tired and I can hear your stomach grumbling. So, before you pass out on me, I think we'd better stop and quickly."

Scott's tone was very serious, so much so that Val finally turned his head to look at him and shook his head while a lopsided grin appeared. Scott was Johnny's brother all right – both had the same type of infectious sense of humour although Scott's was often drier than Johnny's.

The more time he was spending with Scott, the more the lawman liked the young Bostonian. He was a good man and Johnny was lucky to have ended up with a brother such as him. It was good for the boy. Val considered Johnny like a little brother and he knew the boy looked up to him at times but Scott was the real stuff. The sheriff was glad for his friend even though at first, he had felt a pang of jealousy, particularly when seeing how Johnny reveled in his brother's presence.

It had taken him a while to warm up to the older of the Lancer boys but, in the end, he had realized that the young Easterner's presence was in no way a threat to the friendship he had with his young amigo. Besides, the Lancers were good people and Scott was surprisingly accepting of what he knew of Johnny's past. Val was aware there were still a lot of things they didn't know yet but he was sure Johnny would eventually tell them more about himself and what he'd done in the past. It was a question of gaining the young man's total trust, of making him realize that they wouldn't pass judgement on the things he had done. Once this step was attained, they would find it easier to get the boy to open up to them and maybe to reveal some of his darkest secrets.

He wondered what he could tell Scott. The young man clearly expected him to divulge some of the past he and Johnny shared but he would have to be careful about what he'd talk to him about. There were some things that he felt only Johnny could tell his family. It wasn't his place to do so, no matter how much he liked Scott and he had too much respect for Johnny to reveal everything he knew.

Val was brusquely taken away from his thoughts as they finally arrived in view of the small town. They stopped their horses at the top of the little hill that overlooked the town and looked at each other, smiling.

"At last," Scott said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Last one in front of the saloon pays for the refreshments," he continued, as he spurred his horse forward.

Val laughed and followed, smiling at the choice of words the young man had used. He would be glad to rest his butt for a few hours and put something in his belly.

/ / / / /

Murdoch was waiting patiently at their table while Alejandro went to fetch his daughter and his niece. The older Lancer wondered what the two young women would have to say and, more importantly, why Mara had lied when he had asked her about Johnny. Truth be told, he hadn't exactly mentioned Johnny Lancer but since Alejandro had confirmed that Johnny had signed the register as Lancer and that he had been seen with both girls, Mara must have known the young man was his son.

Fifteen minutes later, Alejandro returned with both girls in tow. Murdoch got up as they arrived beside their table and he galantly offered a seat to Tierra while Alejandro did the same for Mara. They all sat down around the table and the two young women looked curiously at him. It was obvious to Murdoch that Mara was not at ease as she kept darting her eyes from him to her uncle. As for Tierra, she looked more curious than worried.

"Tierra, you remember Señor Lancer, don't you?"

"Si, I remember him, Papa," she answered, bowing her head slightly in deference to the older man.

"It is nice to see you again, Tierra. The last time I saw you, you were just a fifteen year old girl. You haven't changed much. You're still as pretty and you've also grown a bit. I gather the climate of Spain agreed with you."

"Indeed, Señor Lancer. But I am glad to be back. I much prefer it here," Tierra answered, smiling while a slight blush covered her cheeks.

"I don't need to introduce my niece Mara. You already know her," Alejandro continued.

"No, you don't have to. Nice to see you again, Mara," Murdoch said, putting an emphasis on the "again" and looking intently at the young woman.

Mara offered him a smile but he was pleased to see that the more he looked at her, the more she seemed to squirm on her seat. That was a sure sign Alejandro's niece had something to hide.

"I've asked you both to come sit with us because my very good friend has some questions to ask," the hotel owner said, "and frankly, I'd like to know the answers to those questions myself."

"What can we do to help?" inquired Tierra, looking questioningly at her father and then at Murdoch, unaware of Mara's lie of the evening before.

"I understand that you both have been in contact with my son, Johnny. Is that right?"

Tierra nodded while Mara had the good grace to blush, dipping her head in embarrassment.

"Yes, we met with him two days ago, Señor," Tierra once again answered.

"That's what your father told me, dear. Now, Mara, why didn't you tell me yesterday when I asked?"

"Lo siento, Señor Lancer, but you didn't ask about Johnny Lancer specifically! You asked about a young dark-haired caballero. How was I to know that you meant your son? Have you any idea of how many dark-haired caballeros come in the stage depot every day?" Mara asked, a little too defensively.

"Mind your manners, Mara," Alejandro hissed. "Knowing Señor Lancer as you do, and knowing perfectly well that one of his sons is half-Mexican, you should have guessed that's who he was asking about."

"But… I didn't know Johnny was his son. He never told me his family name," she argued.

"Tierra?"

"Si, Papa."

"What about you? Haven't you told your cousin who that young man you spent time with was?"

Tierra looked nervously from her cousin to her father and then to Murdoch Lancer. She blushed and dipped her head.

"Maybe. Honestly, I don't quite remember," she finally answered, looking first at her father and then at Murdoch.

"Well, there's not much we can do about that now, unfortunately,." Murdoch said, taking pity on the two cousins. "Now, young ladies, I need to know if one of you knows where my son is heading and what he's up to."

Again, the two cousins exchanged a look, clearly at a loss as to what to say. Tierra blushed and started playing with the silver chain she was wearing around her neck. Murdoch watched her and suddenly noticed the ring attached to the chain.

"Tierra, would you mind showing me that ring you're playing with?"

She gazed at him in surprise and retrieving the chain from her neck she handed it to the older man.

"This is Johnny's mother's ring. How come you have it?"

Tierra's blush deepened. This time, she looked first at her cousin, imploring her help with her eyes. When she saw none was coming, she sighed and faced Murdoch Lancer.

"He… He offered it to me."

"Why would he do that?" Murdoch asked. Then he remembered how pleased Alejandro had looked when they met on the street earlier. "Alejandro, is there something I'm not aware of?" he inquired, turning his face to Tierra's father.

The hotel owner smiled and a twinkle appeared in his eyes. "Simply put, I think your boy and my girl are attracted to one another. Isn't that so, Tierra, my dear?"

If it had been possible to disappear into thin air, that's what Tierra would have done. She wasn't ready to discuss her feelings for the young rancher, neither with her father nor Murdoch Lancer. But, she knew she had to say something, anything. So she opted for what was as much of the truth as she knew it to be and without revealing what had transpired between her and Johnny.

"It is true we have feelings for each other," she started, carefully wording her answer. "Papa, he said he would talk to you upon his return. He intends to ask your permission to court me."

Murdoch's mouth hung open in surprise. He couldn't believe Johnny would have proposed to a girl after just meeting her. But then, was it really surprising? Hadn't he proposed to Laura, the young missionary, after only a few hours? And hadn't he thought he was in love with Mattie, the mute girl that had saved his life a while ago? He sighed, discouraged. He would have to have a very good talk with his younger son. It's not that he didn't like Tierra or thought she wasn't a good match for his son, but he didn't want the boy to make the same mistake he had made and get too quickly into a relationship without really thinking about what their life would be. He would have to tread very carefully to avoid his son jumping to the wrong conclusion and God knew it was easy for both of them to do just that.

/ / / / /

So far, the second part of the ride to San Diego had been going without a hitch. While Johnny was stuck inside the stage, he had let his mind wander again to Flor and her family. He had tried to get them to reconsider but they had been adamant – they would help him get his revenge on Castaneda and El Capitán.

/

Six… There were only six of them to create a living hell for both Castaneda and El Capitán. It wasn't much but it would be enough for what Johnny had in mind and to be honest, better than what he'd been able to accomplish alone as he had first wanted. The Castillos and the Alvarados were ready to put their lives into the hands of a 17 year old gunfighter and to obey his orders without question. Johnny felt strangely elated.

Once their course of action had been defined, they had split into two groups. One was led by Esteban who, along with his brothers, went to cut fences and disperse the cattle. The second was led by Johnny who, with the Alvarado brothers, rode to one of El Capitán's hideout and stole money and arms from him. They went at it for a couple of days and then stopped.

Curious as to Castaneda's reaction, Johnny went alone near the hacendado's hacienda to spy on him. As he had surmised, Castaneda had called El Capitán and the two men were raging. Johnny heard them yelling at each other from where he was hiding. Judging from what he could make of their talk, they still had no idea who was hitting them both at once. However, soon that would change as he intended to make sure they knew.

After lying low for a few days, Johnny and his new friends started their dangerous game again. This time, they burned a barn and poisoned a well, sending Castaneda into a fit of rage. The man came storming down into the village, along with a few of his hired mercenaries, hoping to find the culprits.

He had rounded up everyone in the center of the village and had threatened them with severe reprisals should he find out they were involved in the latest events. From his hiding place, in a small cellar built right under the house of Esteban, Johnny heard his friend telling Castaneda they would never dare do anything as they all knew they would be severely punished. The hacendado had finally gone back to his hacienda, still furious and still in the dark as to who could have done this.

Following Castaneda's visit, Johnny had held a meeting with Esteban.

"We need to make one or two more raids and then we'll stay quiet for a while."

"Why?"

"Right now, Castaneda only suspects you might have something to do with what's happening to him. If we stop right now, he will know with certainty that you're behind the attacks. This way, we're throwing him off."

"I see. And then what?"

"I'll take part of the money and the arms to Roberto. Once it is done, I will let Castaneda and El Capitán know that I'm responsible for their problems. It is better you do not know the rest of my plan yet."

"I don't like this, niño. You'll be taking all the blame once again."

"Better me than you. I have no one but you have a family. Besides, I have a score to settle with both Castaneda and El Capitán and that has nothing to do with you."

"They will kill you if they catch you."

"Don't worry about me. I won't get caught."

True to his words, the young gunfighter had left the village shortly afterwards. He had sent a message to Lopez, by way of one of the capitán's man – a rurale he had captured just outside of Nogales. The written message was simple – just a few words – "How's Hell? Meet me in the abandoned mission, alone. We'll talk about it. JM"

/ / / / /

Back in the restaurant, Murdoch and Alejandro were still trying to make the two young women reveal what they knew. Judging by their attitude, they both knew the girls had to know something. And even if they thought it was inconsequential, it might still help Murdoch to figure out exactly where his son was heading.

"Now, please tell us what both of you know," Alejandro ordered once again.

Tierra and Mara exchanged a worried look.

"I think if he had wanted you to know about his plans, Señor Lancer, he would have told you himself, wouldn't he?" Mara asked, raising her eyes to gaze directly into Murdoch's eyes – which was sort of improper but, at this point, she didn't really care.

"Listen, young ladies, Johnny may be heading to his death. Is that what you want?" Murdoch told them both.

"No, of course not, Señor Lancer," Tierra said, her voice shaking slightly. "But, I also don't want to betray his confidence."

"It's not exactly a betrayal, Tierra. I don't know what he has told you but I suppose it has to do with him feeling that he's got some kind of obligations to this Flor Castillo, isn't that so?"

Tierra dipped her head before looking at the older man again.

"Going back to Mexico is suicidal, particularly when no one is there to watch his back. Help me, Tierra. I don't want to lose him again," Murdoch said, looking pleadingly at the young woman.

Tierra had watched his eyes while he talked and she realized he was extremely worried about his son. She took a deep breath and sighed. Her resolution was shaken.

"I will tell you what I know, Señor."

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 28

_(Three weeks ago…)_

After leaving Barstow, Jeremy had been heading steadily toward the eastern part of the Mojave Desert. He was still undecided about whether he would ride to the small town of Flagstaff and turn down south to Phoenix and then Tucson. Or take a shortcut and ride south alongside the trail that ran more or less along the Colorado River and then turn east to reach Phoenix and south again to head over to Tucson.

As he still had quite a few miles to cover before having to reach a decision, he continued riding, alternating between a rapid pace and a slow one to spare his horse. He had enough water to last for quite a while but, sooner or later, he would need to stop to refill his canteens and rest a bit. Luckily for him, finding sources of water wouldn't be a problem as he was familiar with both trails. He fervently hoped he'd reach Tucson in time to stop Johnny from getting into trouble and if that couldn't be helped, to go with him. At least, that way the boy would have someone to watch his back.

Of course, there could be a possibility that Johnny wouldn't go through Tucson. There were a number of places his young friend could cross the border. Jeremy didn't know how he knew it, but he was convinced the boy had taken the San Diego route. He just hoped Johnny wouldn't be foolish enough to cross into Mexico or that if he did, Val wouldn't be far behind.

* * * * *

_(Two weeks ago…)_

The stage finally arrived in San Diego on schedule. Johnny spent the last part of the trip on top with the brothers, at their request, and had to listen to their incessant talk. They managed to make him laugh quite a few times with their ludicrous stories though. But, as much as he liked them, the young man was happy to leave the two older men – between them and the passengers, he'd had enough small talk and snickering comments about this or that for a lifetime.

He said his goodbyes to the brothers and, once on the firm ground again, retrieved his saddlebags. For one brief moment, Johnny considered renting a horse and crossing the nearby Mexican border right away. However, that would mean running the risk of being recognized too quickly and possibly hunted by the Rurales or old enemies and that was not a good idea. It would be better for him to cross over the other side once he was close to his final destination. He absolutely needed to reach Flor and find out why she requested his presence and getting caught before he'd had time to do that wasn't quite the way to do it.

Still wondering about Flor's reasons for calling him to her rescue he realized he was right in front of the stage depot. He hesitated briefly but he finally pushed the door and walked inside, his mind made up. There were already a few people waiting in line and he moved behind the last of them. When his turn came, he inquired about the next stage to Tucson. For once, it seemed Fate was on his side as the clerk told him the next one was expected in an hour. He bought his ticket and went to the café right across from the stage depot and ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee.

By the time his meal was put on the table, he only had forty minutes left before the stage's scheduled arrival. He ate quickly and paid for his meal. As he stepped out of the café, he pushed his hat firmly onto his head and crossed the street. With a few minutes to spare before the stage arrived, he casually leaned his left shoulder on one of the posts outside the depot. Lazily, he watched the comings and goings in the dusty street, his right hand never far from his holster. He'd been in San Diego a few times before and some people might remember Johnny Madrid and those people might not be exactly friends.

Soon, five young ladies chatting animatedly stepped on the boardwalk and positioned themselves right beside him. He felt their eyes on him and had the strange feeling they were appraising him, as if he was a prized bull. Then, they started whispering to each other and a couple of them even giggled. He sighed. 'Oh no,' he thought, 'por favor Dios, don't do this to me!' as he looked at the overexcited young women, thinking of how in hell he would cope with a bunch of talkative females and chastising himself for his uncharitable thoughts.

Five minutes after, the characteristic sound of a stage coming in resounded along with the accompanying clouds of dust. Chewing on his hat strings, Johnny waited impatiently for the stage to stop, the passengers to disembark and the team to be changed.

Within a few minutes, a new team was harnessed. Once it was done, Johnny waited a minute or two to see if any of the girls would embark but none did. Instead two of them greeted two old matrons who were among the passengers that had stepped out of the arriving stage and left with them while the others went their way after greeting the newcomers. 'Thank God,' he muttered to himself as he gave his gun to the driver. He climbed in the vehicle and sat at the far end on the left, near the window. Soon, six other passengers joined him – all men and older than him. He recognized two of the people that had been waiting in line when he had stepped inside the stage depot earlier and one that had been in the café.

He watched the six men choose their places and surreptitiously examined each of them. Fortunately, none looked dangerous. Johnny allowed himself to relax a bit but without letting his guard down completely. He knew from experience that even the less dangerous looking people could be the complete opposite.

Within a few minutes the stage left. Another few days of travel and Johnny would be meeting his destiny. The nearer he was getting to his destination, the more he thought the meeting with Flor would have a major impact upon his future. He was persuaded she wouldn't have sent for him unless something serious had happened.

* * * * *

Back in the privacy of his hotel room, Murdoch dropped heavily on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he brought his hands to his head and rubbed his temples, letting a long sigh escape his lips.

He had foolishly thought the girl knew something about his son's whereabouts and intentions. But no, aside from saying what they already suspected – that Johnny was going back to respect a promise he had made to someone who had helped him – all she had told Murdoch was that they had talked about their respective childhoods, their dreams and hopes. She also mentioned that Johnny had told her a bit about how he grew up hating – hating the world in general and his father in particular and how wrong he had been because his father was a man worthy of his respect. Murdoch felt doubly cheated. She knew about some of his son's past while he had yet to make his boy tell him about it.

Johnny was normally a very private person and it surprised him that he would have been so open with the girl. Would he ever talk about the past with him? True, he had never encouraged that type of talk with either of his sons and maybe it was simply because he was afraid of what he might discover. Suddenly Murdoch shook his head and laughed. The past was gone and done – what a ridiculous thing to tell them when they arrived at Lancer. In truth, the past was still hovering above their heads, still surrounding them and raising its ugly head now and then.

Thinking about that first day, when the boys came back, he realized he had been hiding his true self from them. Didn't want them to see a man unable to control his emotions, a man scared by the kind of men he would find in front of him. He had not been prepared to see them both at once. He was expecting Scott… and had no clear idea of when Johnny would come. All he knew was that the Pinkerton agent had let him know the message had been delivered and the young man had said he would come.

Seeing both at once had unsettled him more than he'd cared to admit – hence the way he treated them. He was damn lucky they both had stayed after Pardee had been defeated. It was up to him now to open up and let them come fully into his heart. It would only be once he was able to do that that he would finally appease the ghosts from his own past.

* * * * *

A few hours in town had allowed Val and Scott to refresh themselves and to partake of a good meal before hitting the road again. Their horses had been well taken care of and given extra rations of oats and they, themselves, had bought a few extra provisions for the trail.

Once they hit the trail again, they rode for a few hours. Shortly before it became too dark to continue, considering there was no bright moon that night and that they needed to rest a bit, they stopped in a spot near a small stream.

The sheriff was a bit apprehensive as he knew Scott would want anwers from him. He was still pondering what he would tell the young man. Val had finally realized that for Scott, talking about his brother was a way of keeping a connection with the boy, a connection he needed. And who better than Val to provide it as he knew Johnny pretty well.

As soon as they had a small fire going, Scott settled down on one side while Val sat on the opposite side. As he fiddled with the coffee pot, he could feel Scott's eyes on him. He finally looked up and stared at the younger man sitting in front of him.

"Why are you so loyal to my brother?" Scott asked without preamble, as if he had just been waiting for Val to look at him.

"Can't wait for the coffee to be ready, uh? Are you always that much in a hurry?"

Scott laughed nervously. He knew Val wasn't comfortable with the idea of telling him the story but he kept on pushing nonetheless. He needed to talk about Johnny and now, not tomorrow or the day after.

"Always, particularly when my little brother is involved. So, tell me Val, why is it?"

Val sighed and plunged ahead. "That boy inspires loyalty to those he lets get close to him. Once he's crawled under your skin, there's nothing you can do to escape this feeling of loyalty. He has saved my butt quite a few times, and I guess I've done the same for him. We probably don't owe anything to each other anymore but still, I like the kid. Can't be helped."

"I understand how you feel, Val. I feel the same. He charged at me, crawled right under my defenses and made himself a cozy place in my life. I've always wanted a little brother, you know."

Val snorted. "I bet he's much more than what you expected."

"That he is. That he is," Scott said, laughing out loud. Then he was all serious again. "Val, I can't imagine my life without him anymore. I couldn't bear it if something happened to him. That's why I need to find him and once I do, I swear that he will hear what I think about this foolish stunt he's pulled this time. I'm of a mind to take him to the barn and tan his backside."

Val choked on his coffee and coughed, spattering the coffee in front of him and into the fire.

When Scott realized that the sheriff didn't seem to be able to catch his breath, he went to him and slapped him on his back, all the while encouraging him to calm down and take deep breaths. Val was finally able to do so and started to breathe almost normally.

"You'd have to catch him first and I can tell you, he can run pretty fast, if needed," he said, still a little breathlessly.

"Oh, I sense a story there… one you can tell me without betraying his confidence that is."

Val stared at Scott. He could see his face glimmering in the light provided by the fire. Immediately, he felt a new kind of respect for the young Bostonian as he realized the young man understood his dilemma and he smiled. But, he wasn't quite ready to let go yet.

"You nag your brother as much as you nag me?" he asked.

"Are you crazy? I know better than to nag him. I don't want to find myself facing the business end of his gun," Scott answered very seriously.

"Then, what makes you think you can do it with me?" Val said, trying to fight the smile that threatened to appear on his lips.

"Firstly," Scott said, raising one finger, "you're not Johnny". He lifted a second finger and continued, "Secondly, I just know you will end up telling me something, so why don't you go ahead and make me a happy man?"

Val laughed, finally giving up. "I'll tell you a story. Maybe it won't be the one you really want to hear, but…"

"Well, let's get comfortable then," Scott interruped him, while settling down comfortably and taking a sip of his hot coffee.

* * * * *

His fellow passengers were rather a quiet bunch. For the most part, they seemed to be keeping to themselves and aside from the usual greetings when they all climbed in the coach, they had not uttered more than a couple of words each. That suited him fine as it left his mind free to wander once again in his past… to events he was sure had, in some ways, to be related to Flor's request to come.

*

_(Five years ago…)_

The young pistolero was waiting at the abandoned mission. He wasn't a hundred percent sure El Capitán would come alone but it was a chance he had to take. It was high time the Rurales Capitán and him had a face to face discussion. Johnny's intention wasn't for the man to face down his gun. El Capitán was no match in a regular gunfight and it wouldn't have been fair. No, he was thinking of another type of fight, a fight of the will, a fight of the mind.

He was waiting patiently on the porch of the abandoned small church when he noticed some movement from the corner of his eyes. Slowly, his right hand went to his holster and he pulled his gun out.

"Easy, Johnny. It's us," he heard Esteban say.

Johnny closed his eyes a fraction of a second before reopening them and turning to face Esteban, his brothers and his brothers in law. His eyes had turned dark with fury.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought I had told you this wasn't your fight."

"We know, niño, we know. But we were in town and we saw El Capitán leaving his office. He looked as if he was real mad and we heard him shouting about you and the abandoned mission. We saw him heading over to where his men were stationed and yell after them to get ready. We rushed here to warn you."

Johnny dropped his head and murmured, "I thought he would do the honorable thing and face me man to man."

"Jose Eduardo Lopez isn't an honorable man, niño. You should know that by now. He is as treacherous as his heart is black and he will do everything in his power to hurt you now that you have challenged him."

"Thank you for telling me. But you should go now. This is going to be very dangerous."

"No, we're staying with you. We will help in any way we can."

"Think about your wife and unborn child, Esteban. I don't want your family to suffer because of me. I'm not worth it," the young pistolero said, his eyes pleading with the older man.

Esteban smiled before he answered. "Stop this nonsense, niño. We will stay and if God is willing, we will all get out of this alive."

Johnny closed his eyes and dropped his head. He leaned back against the church wall and wrapped his arms around himself. 'Dios, make them understand… They can't stay.' But he knew that God would not answer his prayer. He knew they would stay no matter what and in a way, he was glad. Maybe together they would stand a better chance against El Capitán and his men.

"I'm grateful," he heard himself say, very softly. "We need to have some kind of plan," he continued, moving from the wall to take a look outside.

"We still have a little bit of time. You should eat," Esteban said, as he handed him a small package. "I bet you haven't had anything this morning."

Johnny offered the man a bright smile. In fact, he hadn't had anything since lunch time the day before. "I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow all by myself. Thank you, amigo," he replied, grabbing the parcel and eagerly opening it to find a couple of rolled tortillas filled with eggs.

While he ate, they discussed different options and shortly after, Esteban's and Flor's brothers positioned themselves in different spots outside the abandoned church and the surrounding small decrepit dwellings and watched for the arrival of the hated Rurales captain. They had agreed to remain hidden and to intervene only if things turned bad. Johnny was hoping they wouldn't try to do anything foolish that might get them killed.

He took a deep breath. As he stepped outside the mission, he saw a rocking chair that had seen better days a few feet from the porch and went to sit there. He pushed his hat off his head and let it fall on his back. He then proceeded to check his gun, making sure it was fully loaded. From what his friends had told him, he knew the upcoming fight would be nothing of what he had hoped to accomplish with El Capitán. If the man was, indeed, coming with a contingent of men, discussion would be kept to a strict minimum.

He had barely finished loading his gun when he saw a cloud of dust in the distance.

"Let the fun begin," he said aloud to no one in particular.

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 29

_(Two weeks ago…)_

Scott was waiting expectantly while Val was taking his sweet time. With a mutter, the lawman filled his cup with fresh coffee and took a careful sip before clearing his throat noisily.

"I know you really want to find out how we met and there's really nothing wrong with me telling you. But I'd like him to be with us for that one. Think you'll love his comments when I tell the story," Val said, winking exaggerately. "What I can tell you about it, besides the fact Johnny was a cocky little bastard of 15 with a bragging mouth, is that we started on the wrong foot. We faced each other in the dusty street of a small Mexican border town and we ended up saving each other's lives."

Scott nodded and smiled, both grateful that the two didn't complete their dance and shocked to find out Johnny was only 15 at the time.

"Johnny was – still is – a real rogue, full of shit and a thirst for life that was very catching. We bumped into each other regularly after our first meeting, often for work. About a year after we became friends, we met in El Paso. Then, Johnny dragged me to a fiesta in a part of Mexico where Madrid wasn't very well-known and where it was kinda safer for him to be," Val said, scratching his unshaven chin as the memories pertaining to that event took hold of his mind.

*

"We rode to Nuevo Laredo. That's a small town not very far from the border but way out of Johnny's normal territory. Said we would spend a week away from work and have some fun."

"You believed him?" Scott asked, scratching his nose before taking a sip from his cup.

"Yeah, I did," Val said, smiling. "But his idea of fun was pretty peculiar."

"How so?" Scott asked as he filled Val's cup with fresh coffee.

"Well, we booked a room in a small hotel and headed for a little cantina. Of course, it was overcrowded, what with the big fiesta going on, but he managed to get us a spot in the private dining room of the family owning the place."

"How the hell did he do that?"

In the flames, Val could see that Scott's face was alight with curiosity.

"He simply charmed his way in. I tell you, Scott, the woman he talked to seemed about ready to eat out the palm of his hand," Val said, laughing. "Of course, I asked him what he told her."

And in a perfect imitation of Johnny's soft drawl, he continued, "Oh, just that although you look kinda rough around the edges, you're a very good prospect for her oldest daughter."

This came just as Scott was gulping down the rest of his coffee. It all came out through his nose and he was left panting.

"I don't believe it!" he said, after regaining his composure. "He really said that?"

Val nodded. "And then he told me she intended to fatten me up because I was too skinny."

"Well, that's still the case," Scott deadpanned. "Was the girl pretty at least?"

"More than pretty. She was stunningly beautiful."

"How did you manage to get out of that… interesting situation?"

"I didn't. The whole thing was a prank. It turned out that the owner of the cantina was the cousin of Johnny's mother."

"He has family in Mexico then! I was under the impression he had had no one to turn to after his mother died. I wonder if my father knew about those people."

"I doubt it, Scott. If he'd known, he would have gone there to look for Johnny. Not that he would have found him but at least, he'd have known under what name he was going and it would have made his search easier."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Scott said thoughtfully. "So, my brother set you up good, huh? That's too funny. Were you mad?"

"At first, yeah, I guess I was. But then, Johnny looked so happy, I just couldn't stay mad at him. We ended up having a very good time. Esperanza – that's the girl's name – was already married and a mother of two lovely little girls who were both in love with Johnny. You should have seen him with them. He was like a kid himself. Hell, he was still a kid in reality.

"Well, Esperanza became our guide for the whole week. It was the first time I ever saw Johnny so carefree. I think I was lucky enough to have a glimpse of how life could have been for him, had he stayed with them after his mother died."

"Why didn't he?"

"According to Señora Valdez, she and her husband offered him a home with them but he wouldn't stay. He had too much hate inside him. All he was dreaming of was to find his father and kill him. But, you already know that."

"Yes. I'm glad things turned out okay for all of us. Still, I wish Murdoch had found him earlier. It would have spared them both so much pain and hardship."

Val nodded and drank his coffee. Scott could see he wasn't quite with him as he had a faraway look in his eyes and was smiling at something only he could see.

"But yeah, he really had me going for awhile. I thought I was gonna have Señora Valdez linin' me up for a weddin'," Val finally said after a minute. "I swore I'd have my revenge."

Scott laughed. He'd been on the receiving end of one of Johnny's practical jokes a few times, so he could easily imagine his brother playing such a prank on Val. That thought made him all the more eager to find his wayward sibling. God, he missed him so much.

"So, Val, did you have your revenge?" he finally asked, after taking another sip of coffee.

"Oh yeah. I got him good a few days after. But right now, I want to sleep," Val said, barely suppressing a huge yawn.

"You can't stop here, Val."

"Yeah I can and I will. We've got to get up early tomorrow, Scott… Heck, it's already tomorrow as it is. Go to sleep."

"But…"

"I'll tell you the rest while we ride. I promise."

Scott's expression was so funny that Val almost burst out laughing and changed his mind. He patted the younger man's arm and threw the rest of his now cold coffee behind him, into the bushes. Then, lying down, he turned on his side and made a show of yawning and grumbling.

Scott shook his head and grinned. He really would have liked to know the rest of that story, to see if Val got his revenge and what Johnny's reaction had been. But, he also knew Val was right. They only had a few hours of rest remaining. He stretched out on his bedroll and watched the stars for a few minutes until his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

Murdoch's night proved to be anything but restful. He turned over and over in his bed, unable to find a comfortable position. And then, when he closed his eyes, all he saw were visions of a blue-eyed young boy, struggling to survive in a harsh world, a place not yet ready to fully accept mixed-blood children. If only he had been able to keep his son by his side. If only Maria hadn't left, taking the boy away from the security of his home. If only… He sighed and turned once again, the bed creaking under his weight. And finally, an hour or so before dawn, he fell asleep.

* * * * *

Johnny was feeling sleepy but the movement of the stage wasn't very favorable for a nap. He tried to distract himself by watching the scenery unfolding in front of his eyes. There wasn't much to look at… a dry and dusty road, endless fields, a faraway ranch, a few cowboys here and there, nothing to worry about. In a nutshell, the ride was boring, very boring and he now wished he had rented a horse and continued on horseback, even if going by stage part of the way was the sensible thing to do.

Two of the passengers were having a discussion about the wonders of travel around the world. Obviously, they knew what they were talking about and that made Johnny smile. His brother would have loved to participate in such a conversation. But him? Nah! Although he had travelled a bit, his travels had mostly consisted of going back and forth between the south-west states and Mexico – not much in the face of what those two had done. It kept him occupied for a bit but soon, his mind started to go back in time once again.

_(Five years ago…)_

The fun was about to begin… but Johnny was not stupid. When he saw how many men rode behind El Capitán he knew that, unless a miracle happened, today would be his last day on earth. His only regret was that his friends were also risking their lives. They were all in position and it was just a matter of time before he had to play his part and stand in the street to face his nemesis. He had no doubt his friends would intervene as soon as the rurales made their move. They would watch his back, but at what cost?

He had already mentally prepared himself for this confrontation. He had a few things to tell Lopez – things that he needed to get out of his mind. Although he knew the man was less than honorable, he was still counting on his curiosity and his willingness to restrain his men while they had their talk. Once this was done, he was pretty sure all hell would break lose.

Still sitting in the rocking chair, he watched the band of rurales riding in slowly. Soon, they stopped in the middle of the street and faced the mission. Then, El Capitán motioned for his men to move back a little while he rode still a bit nearer to the abandoned building. He stopped his horse near enough to be able to hear Johnny.

"Tell me, do I scare you so much that you need to bring reinforcements with you?" Johnny asked, as he spared a glance at the eight men behind El Capitán.

"One day, Mestizo, your big mouth will get you killed."

"Well, dying comes to us all, sooner or later."

"In your case, breed, it might be sooner than you think."

Johnny grinned. "Shall we talk then? Unless you want to dance. Your choice, amigo."

The young gunfighter knew better than to provoke El Capitán but he couldn't help himself. He saw the man's right hand twitch and he smiled again.

"You think you can take me?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Maybe not, but you sure make me feel like trying, Mestizo."

"As I said, your call," Johnny said, finally getting up.

He took his time flexing his fingers and stretching his back, all the while looking straight into the eyes of his enemy. He was taking chances but in his heart, he knew El Capitán wouldn't move until they were both ready. Then he rolled his shoulders back and forth and shrugged. Slowly, he pulled his black glove out, put it on his left hand and made sure his holster was well tied. Then, he leaned nonchalantly against the mission wall, as if he had no worries at all.

He could see El Capitán's men spreading and forming an arc behind their captain and dismounting once each was in position. He almost checked to make sure his friends were still in place as well but didn't. That would be HIS surprise for El Capitán.

"So, what shall it be – talk or dance?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, smiling insolently.

"Let's talk. After all, that's why you invited me here."

Johnny just smiled again and moved away from the wall, advancing toward El Capitán but still staying far enough away from him.

"Señor Castaneda had assured me his men had killed you and left you in the desert for the buzzards. I should have realized it wouldn't be that easy to get rid of you."

"Well, Castaneda's men did a lousy job. They should be fired, don't you think?"

"You certainly have guts, Madrid. I have to hand that to you."

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an awful long time but was only a minute or so in reality. Then, Lopez spoke, his voice just loud enough for Johnny to hear him.

"Where's my money?"

"Ah! So that's why you really came today!"

"Castaneda was stupid enough not to make sure you were definitively out of commission. Why should I care about the problems you've created for him? I'm only interested in getting my money back."

"You mean the money you stole from those poor peons who already had next to nothing?"

El Capitán's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint appearing in them. "Don't push your luck too far, Madrid."

"Else what? You gonna have me taken down by your men? Very brave of you. Eight… no, make it nine against one."

"Well, it was very stupid of you to come alone. You can be such a foolish boy."

"You think so?" Johnny asked, defiantly.

Thing is, this time El Capitán was right. Were it not for his friends who were hiding nearby, he would have been alone. How could he have believed for even one second that the man would have come alone?

Still, the fact that his friends would now risk their lives for someone like him didn't sit well with him. He now wished he'd not sent that note to the Rurales captain. That had been foolish. But then, if he hadn't, Castaneda and El Capitán would have exacted retribution from the peons. And that's something he couldn't let happen. He needed to make sure they wouldn't be bothered, no matter what. He needed to convince El Capitán that everything that had happened was of his own doing, that he was alone when he did it or that whoever had helped him was now long gone – back to the other side of the border. Yes, that's what he needed to do and right now. There wasn't much time left for this because soon, Lopez would tire of their little game.

"There was a time when all I wanted was to be like you. I admired you," the young gunfighter confided, in a soft drawl.

"I remember. You were always in my way, asking questions, demanding answers. You couldn't get it in your thick head that no blue-eyed half-Mexican boy would be accepted in the rurale force."

"Guess I was really stupid, huh? And here I thought you were an honorable man. I thought you loved my mother, that you could have been a father to me," Johnny said, unable to totally hide the hurt from his voice. "All you ever wanted from her was for her to spread her legs for you."

El Capitán's eyes became murderous. "You won't speak of your mother like that, Mestizo. She was worth more than you'll ever be."

Johnny dipped his head and briefly lowered his eyes. When he raised them again, they were brighter and filled with a renewed hate for Lopez.

"What do you care? I followed you a few times and she wasn't the only one. I saw with whoever you were taking your pleasure with. I saw how you treated those women. My Mama was just another one of them."

"Don't change the subject, Mestizo. Where's my money?" El Capitán asked, the hand holding the pummel suddenly clenching it.

"What's in it for me if I tell you?"

"Maybe I'll spare your life."

Johnny snorted, laughing bitterly. "As if I would believe that!"

"Then, how about I spare the life of those who helped you?"

"What makes you think I got help?"

"I'm not stupid, Madrid. You couldn't have pulled all of this alone. The peons hired you and then they helped you."

"The peons? Hiring me? Come on, they don't have any money to pay me. You took it all from them. You think I'd work for free?"

"I'll find the truth sooner or later. It's easy, really. I only have to take you back with me to a certain village."

"This is not necessary. The peons have nothing to do with this. I was helped by a few gringo friends," Johnny said, maybe a little too quickly.

"And where are those friends now? Hiding here and waiting to cut me down?"

"No. I don't work that way. By now, they're safe across the border."

"If it wasn't for the peons, then why did you do it? Why didn't you cross the border and save yourself?"

"Vengeance."

"I don't get it."

"Vengeance against Castaneda for what he's done to me. Vengeance against you for what you've done to my Mama."

"I haven't done anything to your Mama."

"You abandoned her," Johnny said, venom dripping from his voice. "You left her at Carlos' mercy and look what happened? She died! She left me!"

By then, Johnny was shaking. He realized he needed to refocus and quickly. He should never have let their conversation go that way. And now, El Capitán was looking at him with a strange expression in his eyes. The man must think he was crazy.

"I don't think we have anything else to say to each other, Mestizo," El Capitán said, finally dismounting.

Johnny moved backward as quickly as he could to reach the safety of the mission. El Capitán raised his hand and his men started to advance, closing in but still staying behind their captain.

A single shot reverberated.

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 30

_(Now…)_

_The door to the cell opened once again. Johnny recoiled and huddled in the far corner as if trying to disappear from sight._

"_How are you faring, Mestizo?"_

"_What do you care?" the young man said, his voice barely more than a whisper._

"_What do I care? Why, I care a great deal! After all, you must be able to face what I'm planning for you," the man answered as he raised the wick of the oil lamp he was carrying._

"_A little late for that, don't you think?"_

"_Well, I couldn't not have let them have their fun, now could I?" El Capitán answered with a laugh. Inwardly, he was angry because those damn stupid peons had followed his orders so well that they had almost killed the young man whose back was now resting against the wall._

"_You're sick, Lopez," Johnny said, straightening against the wall and pushing himself up._

_With a supreme effort, he managed to stand upright and face his enemy. His legs were wobbly and he felt dizzy. He knew he presented a sorry sight but there wasn't much he could do about it._

"_Aren't you a little curious to know why they've whipped you as they have?"_

"_Oh, I'm sure you thought of something to scare them. something twisted like drowning their firstborn or pulling their teeth out. Am I right?"_

"_You know me well, Mestizo," Lopez laughed. "I assure you, my threats were not quite so 'twisted,' as you say, but they _were_ equally effective."_

"_Oh, I'm sure it was – I'd never doubt you being the biggest bastard a hundred miles around," By then, Johnny's strength had left him and he folded on the ground, right at the captain's feet._

"_Right now, what I'd like you to do is eat. I've been told that you've been refusing what's been brought to you."_

_Johnny's bitter laugh resounded. "Would you eat the shit they're bringin' me?"_

_El Capitán raised the lamp a little and watched his young prisoner trying to get up once again. He pushed him back roughly on the ground. The boy presented no resistance. He then knelt beside him and brought the lamp nearer so that he could take a good look at his face. He noticed the lines of pain around the boy's mouth and the dark circles under the normally bright eyes. _

"_I guess I wouldn't," he agreed. "Will you eat if I get you something, say, more appetizing?"_

"_You want to fatten me up?" Johnny asked, sarcasm flowing from his lips._

_El Capitán's first impulse was to strike the young man's face but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he got up and moved toward the door._

"_Someone will bring you food later. You'd better eat. You'll need your strength to face what I have in mind for you. And I know you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?"_

_Johnny didn't respond, his earlier bravado had taxed him sorely. He stayed where he was, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Within a few minutes, the door was once again locked and he was left alone in his private hell._

_He now had one answer… well, not really, but he had a better idea of why he had been so-treated by people he had thought were friends. He knew firsthand how persuasive El Capitán could be. Those poor people probably had no choice than to follow his orders. That he could understand… and forgive. And if that was the case, was Flor also not given any choice? _

_(Two weeks ago…)_

Scott and Val resumed their trip early that morning. They had only slept a few hours but, somehow, they both felt refreshed and much more relaxed. That was probably due, in part, to their exchange of stories, but it was most likely also due in greater part to the brandy-laced coffee they had drunk. They were now riding, alternating between a rapid pace and a slower one to spare their mounts. Both men wanted to arrive in San Diego as quickly as possible but without endangering their horses.

Val was looking at Scott from under the brim of his hat. The young Bostonian was probably the best thing that had happened to his young friend and he promised himself to watch the Easterner's back. He knew what type of danger awaited them in Mexico and if anything happened to Scott, Johnny would be highly pissed-off. And if there was one thing Val was sure of, it was that he didn't particularly want to deal with a sore Johnny. He'd had his fair share of that in the past.

As they rode, they both watched their surroundings closely on the unlikely chance that they might somehow stumble upon Johnny. They had been riding for a few hours when Val motioned for his companion to stop, indicating a nearby village.

"Let's stop here," Val suggested. "We need to rest the horses a bit and, if we're lucky, we'll find somethin' better to eat than trail rations."

"Always thinking about your stomach, Val?"

Val grinned. "You bet. I hate trail food, always have and always will."

"Don't forget you still have to finish that story you started yesterday. I want to know if that plan you and Esperanza hatched worked and what Johnny's reaction was."

The sheriff sighed heavily. There was no chance he'd have forgotten the rest of that particular story. Scott could be very persistent at times but then, in this particular case, it would help pass the time. They left their horses at the livery and headed over to the café. Once inside, a pretty waitress showed them to a table near the window.

The place was extremely quiet as there were only a couple of patrons in the small dining room. Soon, they each had a steaming bowl of stew in front of them along with cornbread and two mugs of refreshing beer. They ate with gusto and finally, Val resumed the story from the evening before.

*

"You see, Esperanza's husband was stuck in bed with two broken legs, so she asked us to help make some repairs around her house. Heck, we were only too glad to oblige, what with the way her mama had taken us in."

Scott grinned. "Knowing Johnny as I do – or, at least, as I _think_ I do – I can easily see him pitching in."

"Well, that's true enough. Mind you, ever since he took to the gun, he's thought of himself as one tough hombre, goin' wherever the money was good, doin' whatever was needed to get the job done. Truth is, he was **always ready****to stick up for the little guy, to help anyone who couldn't fend for themselves. Not that he's** always done the right thing. Far from it. **I'll wager he's****told you****some things he done he ain't too proud of. Well, you'd be right to believe him."**

"Such as?" Scott seemed slightly surprised.

Val glared at Scott. He cleared his throat and drank more of his beer. Then, half standing, he spread both hands on the table and leant toward Scott, his eyes becoming hard.

"You mean he hasn't told ya? Well, then... I guess I won't – that's** for Johnny to say, if and when he's ready.** Comprende, compadre?"

Scott closed his eyes briefly and nodded then took a sip of his beer.

"Of course, Val. I shouldn't expect you to tell me what Johnny himself hasn't revealed," he said, nodding seriously.

"That's right. You shouldn't," Val grunted.

"It's just that, well, I'm glad he found you and Jeremy, and that he trusted you enough to tell you about some of his darkest secrets. I know he trusts me with his life but… it seems there are still some things he can't talk about. It's as if he's afraid Murdoch and I will judge him or think less of him."

"I think that's right, Scott. He is afraid. But know somethin', Johnny… Well, he never did hit bottom. Underneath all that tough guy's stuff he's got a good heart. He just needed a little bit of help to switch directions," Val continued, scratching his nose. "I'm glad Jeremy and me were able to help him a bit with that. Anyway, you want to know the rest of the story or not?"

Once again, Scott nodded and Val smiled.

He sat back on the bench and when the waitress came to take their empty plates away, he ordered coffee and cake. Once she returned with their order, he sampled the cake and in a matter of seconds, it was gone from his plate. Sighing contentedly, he patted his stomach and looked once again at the young man facing him.

"We worked all day **with a hot sun beatin' down**. By the time we finished, we were both covered in sawdust from head to toe and soakin' wet. We only had a couple of hours left for a bath before the big fiesta that night.

"Goin' to the bathhouse, we stopped to grab some clean clothes. Let me tell you, Scott, we got ourselves the nicest soak you could ever hope to have. Just picture these two huge tubs filled to the top with steamy water," Val said, laughing.

He swallowed half of his coffee and continued. "As soon as we were in the bathhouse, Johnny **jumped outta' his clothes and** into the tub. I did the same and boy, that hot water did wonders. So much, in fact, that Johnny fell asleep in a matter of minutes after he finished cleanin' himself."

"What did you do then?" Scott asked, revelling in the **sheriff's happy expression**.

"Got out of my own tub and tiptoed over to Johnny's side. He was sound asleep. I dressed quickly and went to see Esperanza's friend, Luisa. **We'd told her all about our plan so she was in on****the****prank,****too**. She gave me these three small jars with different color dyes in 'em."

Val's eyes were alight with mischief as he told Scott in great details what he did.

Scott gasped, barely able to contain his laughter. "You dyed Johnny's hair, _really_?"

A huge smile appeared on Val's lips. "Yep. That poor boy was so plumb tired that he never noticed a thing. When he finally woke up, he just stepped out of the tub, dried himself and got dressed."

"And when _did_ he find out what you did?"

"An hour or so after. We headed over to the marketplace to eat first. The place was filled with little stands offerin' various types of specialties. We each grabbed a plate and headed over to where Esperanza **was waitin' for us with her mama and some other folks**. We literally stuffed ourselves. **I ain't never seen Johnny****eat****so much****as he ate that day**.

"He was so hungry that Esperanza had to remind him to take his hat off. When he did, **all the kids and grown-up just stood there starin'**. **The****kids started****pointing their fingers at his head and whispering****and gigglin' to each other.****So, he ran his fingers through his hair and that set them bustin' out in a fit.**

"**After we finished eating, we strolled around the place and looked at****all the stuff on show – pots and what not. Johnny****figured out real soon that****a bunch of kids were****trailin' behind, and well, you know****Johnny and kids. He's just a bigger version of one himself."**

Scott nodded, grinning. He just sat there, waiting for Val to continue, sipping his coffee quietly.

"**Well, he played with them kids****right****up until he saw that little señorita. She was a real****looker, probably****no more 'n****eighteen.****Johnny just smiled that smile of his – you know, the one****where his eyes get all shiny? She started gigglin' and then she****walked over, movin' her hips like a saplin' in the breeze, like she was swayin' to some****music only she could hear.****Johnny still didn't have a clue that somethin' was wrong.****Then, the girl grabbed his hand and made him follow her. Of course,****me 'n****Esperanza followed****along with****the kids.**"

Scott was listening attentively, his eyes sparkling, a huge smile plastered on his face.

Val swallowed more coffee before continuing with his story.

"**She took him****over to a tinker's stall**** and ****held****up a mirror in front of his face. We were standin' right behind him and boy, you should have seen him. When he****saw his hair was all different colors he spun around****and looked at me with murder in his eyes. Esperanza and I were laughin' so hard we were cryin'.**"

"What did he do?"

"**Oh, I knew what****was comin' so I took off, and Johnny was right behind. The children were laughin' their head off and the grown-ups… Well,****let me just say, Scott, that me and Johnny were that evenin's entertainment."**

"Did he catch you?"

"Yep, eventually."

"**I'll****bet he was mad****– or would that be an understatement?****I would have loved to see his face.**"

"**Nah! By the time he caught****up, he wasn't mad anymore.****Fact is, he was laughin' too hard to keep runnin' – we all were!****The****kids were jumpin' all around us, squealin' and squawkin'. That's when Johnny****looked at me and asked what****I put in his hair. Luisa and Esperanza told him. He told Luisa to bring him them****jars. Then, he told the kids that if they wanted to look like him, they****should****line up and wait their turn. He grabbed a chair and****pretty soon all the kids had****hair just like his, the boys**_**and**_**the girls.**"

By then, Scott was laughing hard. It was only after a few minutes had gone by that he was able to catch his breath again.

"You know what Val? I'm so glad he had some good moments, that everything hasn't been black for him. Thanks for telling me that story."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Val cleared his throat and finished his coffee, refusing to look at Scott. Then, he raised his head and a crooked smiled appeared on his lips.

"There _were_ happy days for him, here and there. Guess I was lucky to be with him for a few of those happy days."

"I guess my brother is the one who has been lucky, in a way, to have met you."

"In a way?" Val said, eyes alight with curiosity. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, Val, nothing. **It's just...you're a good man,****and I'm****grateful that****you've been able to keep my brother out of harm's way long enough for me to meet him**."

Val's eyes became brighter and he lowered his head in embarrassment, trying to hide his emotions from Scott.

"That boy…", Val said, his voice cracking. He coughed and cleared his throat before continuing, "Well… let's just say that I'm grateful he found you and Murdoch."

The sheriff got up a little awkwardly and threw some coins on the table. He grabbed his hat and played with it a bit before looking at Scott.

"Okay, let's get goin' – we've got some hard ridin' up ahead."

Scott got up, too, taking an extra moment to position his hat on his head, so that Val could regain his composure.

"We'll find him, Val," Scott smiled. "If it's the last thing I – or we BOTH do – I swear we'll find him.

_(Two weeks ago)_

Upon reaching a small settlement just before the Fort Mojave Indian Reservation, Jeremy made up his mind to veer south, and headed for a familiar shortcut that followed closely along the Colorado River.

Although the road was used by settlers as well as natives living in the three nearby Indian Reservations, it was for the moment almost deserted with only an occasional rider or groups of riders heading either north or, as he was, heading south. Being alone with his thoughts had been fun at first, but he was now craving human company. He knew, however, that it was better for him to travel on his own. He'd reach his destination much faster than if he'd had a companion. He couldn't afford to be distracted from his main goal – getting to Tucson as quickly as possible in hopes that he might be able help his young friend.

Jeremy always had mixed feelings when he thought of Johnny. On the one hand, he felt like tanning the young man's backside for all the foolish stunts he's pulled through the years – **a thought that always made him smile because he knew perfectly well that he would have never dared to touch even the teenaged Johnny Madrid. The other feeling Jeremy experienced was pride, a deep pride in how hard the young man had worked to turn his life around, and to become the rancher's son that he had always, in truth, been.**

These thoughts in mind, Jeremy pushed forward, counting on his shortcut to deliver him in time, once again, to make a crucial difference in the fate that awaited Johnny Madrid Lancer in Mexico.

_(Five years ago)_

**Right in front of him, Johnny saw El Capitán stumble and fall to the ground, clutching his left arm. He had no time to look around to see which of his friends had opened fire – and thus risked their own chance for a clean escape.**

**Within seconds, all hell broke loose with the Rurales firing and running chaotically in all directions. From the corner of his eye, Johnny saw Esteban and his brothers emerge and advance toward him, dodging the bullets as he covered them. He couldn't see Ramon and Felipe, and hoped they'd have the good sense to remain hidden. Now more than ever, Johnny feared what would happen next. El Capitán would surely realize his lie about the source of his help.**

**Lopez got up and ran behind his men, all the while shouting orders. Momentarily, there came the command, "Hold your fire. Retreat. Now."**

**At once, the men obeyed and retreated from the line of fire. Within a few seconds, everything was quiet.**

**Johnny, Esteban and his brothers relaxed fractionally, even though they knew their reprieve wouldn't last long.**

"**Where are Ramon and Felipe?" asked Johnny.**

"**Told them to stay out of sight. Maybe they'll be able to get away."**

"**Good. You should have done the same."**

"**You know we won't leave you alone to face this monster. Not after what you've done to help us."**

**Johnny dipped his head and sighed. When he finally looked at Esteban, his smile was sad.**

"**This might be the end of the road for all of us. You know that, don't you?"**

"**Si, I know, Niño. But I don't have any regrets."**

"**What about Flor? Have you thought about her and your kids?"**

**Esteban's eyes took on a faraway look. "Niño, with or without you, we were about to do something. Don't blame yourself for what may happen now. We all knew the danger and are prepared for the consequences."**

"**You might believe so, but I don't have to like it. I'd much prefer if…"**

**Lopez' voice suddenly interrupted their talk. "Mestizo, seems to me I'm not the only one playing dirty. I thought you were supposed to be alone?"**

**Johnny snickered. Were it not for his friends, he would have indeed been alone and in deep trouble. Well, they had evened the odds a bit, even without Ramon and Felipe. Hopefully, Flor's brothers would be able to get away and run back to the village to warn her, force her to go into hiding. But, right now, he couldn't dwell on that. He and his friends had to fight for their lives.**

"**Hear me, Mestizo? I know who is with you and believe me, once this is over, they will pay. The entire village will pay. Is that what you want?"**

**Johnny winced. That's exactly what he feared. Esteban shouldn't have come. He should have left him to deal with El Capitán in his own way, even if it ended in his own death. At least he would have been alone; he wouldn't have had to worry about others. Damn Esteban and his sense of honor. Damn El Capitán and his dirty ways.**

"**This is between you and me, Lopez. Let them go."**

"**They chose to help you. They will have to face the consequences. Unless…"**

**Johnny looked at Esteban briefly, worry clearly showing in his blue eyes. Esteban mouthed a silent "Don't." But Johnny didn't acknowledge him.**

"**What's the deal?" he shouted instead.**

"**You surrender now and I'll make sure they only get a short prison term – as examples. I also give you my word to take no revenge on the village."**

"**And what do you have planned for me?"**

"**You will face a fair trial and serve a prison sentence."**

"**Don't believe him, Niño. You know he's lying. He will kill us all," Esteban told Johnny earnestly. But Johnny just shushed him.**

"**What guarantee do I have that you won't break your promise?"**

"**I told you – you have my word."**

"**Your word? Everybody knows we can't trust your word, Capitàn," Esteban yelled back.**

"**I'm talking to Madrid, Castillo, not you," El Capitán said harshly. "So, what say you, Mestizo?" he asked a couple of minutes later.**

**Johnny looked once again at Esteban and his brothers. He didn't want to be responsible for their deaths and if, for once, El Capitán could be trusted, they'd have a chance, a small chance. Hell, he might even have a chance. He had no doubt that if he wasn't executed, he would be sentenced to forced labour. But he'd be alive and sooner or later, he'd find a way to escape. He would only have to bide his time, and that was something he could do.**

He couldn't see any way out of their predicament. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay. I'm coming out. Hold your fire."

"Tssk, tssk, tssk, Mestizo. First, throw your gun away. I'm not taking any chances with you."

"Don't do that, Niño," Esteban pleaded with him.

"Lo siento, Esteban. We've got no advantage here, and I'm not gonna' risk your lives any further."

"He can't be trusted. You know it as well as we do. Please, don't do this."

"It's me he really wants. Maybe he'll let you go once he has me."

"You are a fool, Niño. He will not. He cannot – that would be the same as telling the world that anybody can rise up against him and the likes of Castaneda and get away with it. He's got to make an example of us. There is no other way for men like him."

"Mestizo, don't make me wait too long. My patience is running out and my offer will not last much longer. Make up your mind," Lopez shouted.

Johnny sighed, raised his eyes and looked at the bright blue sky. It was a good day to die, he reflected, if it came to that. He straightened up and nodded again. He knew what he had to do. He looked at his gun one last time and threw it away.

"Niño – don't!" Esteban tried again, sadly.

"Lo siento, Esteban. Try to understand. I can't… I can't let you die because of me."

Esteban hugged the young gunfighter. "I understand, more than you think. Do what you think is right, we will follow you."

Johnny felt a lump in his throat. Do what is right… So easy to say! But was this the right thing to do or was he about to make the biggest mistake of his life?

"Don't follow me just yet. Wait and be ready if something goes wrong," he told Esteban as he moved away from him.

Then, he stepped out from his hiding place, raised his hands, and started to walk toward El Capitán.

TBC


	31. Chapter 31

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 31

_(Five years ago)_

The young gunfighter slowly made his way toward the captain, hands still raised high above his head. Judging from the older man's wicked smile, there was little doubt in Johnny's mind that Lopez would be more than happy to put an end to his meddling into his affairs – what kind of end exactly remained to be seen.

Would El Capitán tell Castaneda about Madrid? After all, the wealthy landlord's men had obviously failed to kill him as they had been ordered to. A fleeting smile appeared on his lips as he tried to imagine what Castaneda's reaction to the fact he was still alive. Particularly once he realized Johnny was responsible for the recent troubles that had befallen him and the captain.

No, all things considered, he was sure El Capitán would want to deal with him alone. He knew he was probably making a big mistake by delivering himself into Lopez' hands, but what else could he do? Because of Madrid, the Castillos had been endangered far too much. Maybe Lopez would be generous and spare them. He wanted to believe it. He needed to… desperately. Otherwise, all he was doing now wouldn't be worth much.

Raising his eyes, he looked at the captain just in time to see the man rub his hands together, wincing and gritting his teeth. Lopez seemed to have forgotten all about his injured arm and that made Johnny grin slightly.

As he moved near where his gun laid in the dirt he hesitated briefly. Of course, Lopez noticed and the man's voice resounded harshly.

"Don't even think about it, Mestizo. Any wrong move and I guarantee you'll regret it."

Johnny sighed and kept walking without glancing further at his gun. The temptation would be too great if he did and the odds were against him. Instead, he fixed the captain's eyes. His arms felt like lead and slowly, almost without being aware of it, he started to lower them, a little more with each step taken. He looked behind the captain and he snorted in derision as he watched the men shuffle nervously. What a bunch of cowards! He was unarmed and heavily outnumbered. What on earth could he possibly do to them?

His thoughts were brutally interrupted when he heard a shot, immediately followed by a burning sensation. His eyes moved down to his left thigh. Forgetting everything else, he put both hands on the wound to staunch the flow of blood and, as if in a dream, folded slowly on the ground.

Sharp jolts of pain surged through his body and made him suck in his breath as he desperately fought to remain conscious. Closing his eyes, he started breathing in and out slowly to try to ride out the pain. He was so focused on his task that he momentarily forgot where he was… until Lopez' tongue-lashing brought him back to the present.

"Who told you to fire, Estupido?"

For a very short moment, he felt sorry for the young rurale who was being addressed so, knowing full well how harsh Lopez could be. Through the escalating pain, he watched the young man – a boy almost as young as he was – disgrace himself in front of his comrades. Had he not been in such dire situation, he would have laughed.

At the same time, Esteban and his brothers came out of hiding and started to shoot. The rurales responded in kind, sending volleys in their direction. Once again, all hell broke loose with people running all over the place, finding cover and returning shot for shot.

Johnny took advantage of the distraction and crawled away toward his discarded gun, holding his injured leg with one hand. Just as he mustered enough strength to grab his gun, he found Lopez and one of his men standing right in front of him. Both were aiming a gun straight at his heart.

"It's over, Madrid," Lopez said.

"Why don't you kill me, Bastardo?" Johnny asked, spitting in the ground.

"That would be too easy," Lopez responded, as he kicked Johnny's injured leg.

The pain was so intense that Johnny screamed and dropped his gun, crumbling on the ground again. He grabbed his leg with both hands and looked up briefly into the captain's face. The man's smile was chilling.

"Hurts, doesn't it, Mestizo? No one fools around with me, as you will soon see," Lopez said. Kicking the gun farther away, he then glanced behind his shoulder and noticed that his men had gained control of the situation. "Bring the prisoners over here," he instructed.

Within minutes, the three men, each with their arms securely tied behind their backs, were brought in front of Lopez. They were a sorry sight, bloody as they were, but still held their heads high. Lopez studied them carefully, taking his time.

"Well, well, well," he finally said. "What a nice bunch of rebels. What am I going to do with you?"

The same rurale who had stopped Johnny minutes earlier pulled him up roughly and shoved him toward the brothers, only to be stopped by Lopez' harsh voice.

"Bring him here," he ordered, showing the man a spot on his left. "Hold him steady."

The man obeyed and dragged a struggling and angry gunfighter to the spot indicated by the captain. The young rurale who had shot Johnny joined the man and together, they held him in place. Johnny could only look at Lopez defiantly, eyes sparkling with barely contained fury.

"You're really making things difficult, you know, Mestizo," Lopez said. "All things considered, maybe I should just end your life right this moment. What do you think?"

Saying so, he brought his gun up, aimed and fired twice. The first shot hit the disobedient rurale square in the head. The second shot hit the other man in the gut. Both fell to the ground as blood splattered Johnny who, like all the others, stood in utter shock while a heavy silence fell on the group – a silence soon broken by the young gunfighter's voice.

"Why did you do that?!" Johnny snapped, revolted and trying very hard to stay on his feet.

Lopez smacked him hard across the mouth, splitting his lower lip. "Shut up, Mestizo. That's what happens to those who disobey my orders."

Johnny's leg suddenly gave way and he ended on the ground once more, clutching his leg with both hands.

The captain brought his gun up again and finished off the gutshot man with a bullet in the head. "And that goes for their relatives as well," he added.

Looking up, the captain saw the remaining rurales fixing him with something like disgust and fear.

"What are you looking at? Get moving. Remove them from my sight."

While the bodies were removed, two of the rurales forced Johnny up on his feet again and Lopez faced the three brothers.

"I'm really disappointed in you, Castillo. What possessed you to help this less-than-nothing?" he asked. "Don't you know that you're only asking for trouble?"

"I did what my honor bid me do, Capitán Lopez," Esteban said, looking straight at the captain.

"There's nothing honorable in helping an outlaw such as this one. What were you expecting? Did you really think he could help you? Look at him, he can't even help himself."

The two men kept looking at each other, like wild dogs waiting for the right opportunity to jump at the other's throat. Esteban's eyes were full of disgust. No one spoke for a few seconds – until a hiss of pain was heard.

"Pah!" Lopez said, turning his head slightly to watch Johnny struggle to ease his injured leg a bit.

"He's not worth the trouble, Castillo. It's unfortunate for you and your family that you've decided to help him."

He turned on his heels to face Johnny again. "As for you, Mestizo, you will learn the consequences of making me your enemy."

Lopez walked back to where his horse was hitched and vaulted onto him. "Make them walk back to the village," he ordered.

"What about him?" asked one of the rurales pointing at Johnny.

Lopez looked at the men assembled before him. He felt a growing sense of unease among them and he spat in the ground. "What about him? He walks, too." The last thing he needed was for his men to feel some kind of sympathy for the boy's predicament.

"Pronto! Unless you want a repeat of what just happened?" he added harshly when he saw that no one moved.

The prisoners were lined up as their ankles and wrists were chained; and flanked by rurales on horseback, they commenced their long trip back to the village.

/

Walking beneath the brutal sun all afternoon, they stopped only long enough to catch their breaths and share a single canteen, nearly empty. For the last agonizing stretch, two of the rurales dismounted and held Johnny between them, dragging him. By the time they made it to the village, the young pistolero was barely able to stand on his own and was consumed by a high fever.

Led by Lopez, the small procession stopped at the heart of the plaza as a group of villagers gathered. Dismounting, the captain signaled his men to line up the brothers in front of the villagers. Then, he watched the two rurales pushing and dragging an almost unconscious Johnny in front of him.

"Tie him up here," he barked, indicating a nearby post on his left.

Lopez went to the boy's side and checked the bindings, making sure he was well tied. "Now, you will see the cost of going against me," he whispered in Johnny's ear.

Laughing at Johnny's miserable vain struggling, Lopez turned on his heels and walked back to where the Castillo brothers were standing, watched closely by his men.

Pacing back and forth, he stopped in front of Esteban who was openly staring at him, defying him silently with eyes turned cold by a fierce hatred.

"You realize I have to make an example, don't you, Señor Castillo?" asked Lopez, his voice filled with contempt.

"You said we would stand a fair trial," Esteban started.

"True. But that was before one of you shot me and tried to help Madrid. I don't owe you a thing."

"You're equal to yourself, Capitán. Men like you don't deserve respect."

"Watch your tongue, peon."

Lopez then turned his attention on the crowd, stroking his mustache with is good hand. Scanning the crowd, he noticed Flor Castillo and her brothers standing at the first rank. They were trying to get her to leave but she kept pushing them away. Her eyes were fixed on her husband while her hands were held over her belly in a protective manner. Lopez smiled and once again faced the brothers.

"You will now face your destiny," he told them.

Saying so, he brought his gun up and shot Esteban right between the eyes. A scream rang in the air. Lopez turned and looked dispationately at the scene playing in front of his eyes as Flor fainted and fell in the arms of one of her brothers. From the corner of his eyes, he also saw Johnny struggling to get rid of the ropes binding him.

"Noooo!" Johnny yelled. "Hijo de puta! You said…"

"I said I'd have to make an example. Consider yourself lucky that you haven't been that example."

Once again, the captain faced the remaining brothers. "As for you," he said, "you will spend the rest of your lives in the silver mines. You will never be free again."

"Take them away," he ordered two of his men. "And you, Mestizo," he added loud enough for everyone to hear, "for the sake of your mother and old times, I will set you free. But, the next time you cross my path, you will regret having ever met me."

"Bastardo!" answered the young gunfighter.

"Listen and listen hard, Mestizo. My men will escort you to the border. If you ever set foot again in this area, be assured that you will never leave, but will _wish _to join your friends in the silver mines!"

Johnny spat at the captain's feet. "Hear me, Capitán. I'll be back one day and you'll pay…"

Lopez laughed madly. "If you don't care for your own life, maybe theirs will make you think carefully before you do anything," he said. Then, he turned and faced the crowd.

"As for you, know that this less-than-nothing here is unwelcome in this part of Mexico. Trusted men will watch this village as well as the area and report to me any suspicious activities on your part. Should you make contact with this pistolero again, you will _all_ pay one way or another. If you know what is good for you, you will stay away from him and any who have befriended him."

By then, Flor had regained consciousness and was supported by her brothers. Like all the others, her attention was fixed on the scene playing in front of her. She pushed her brothers away and moved toward her husband's body. Lopez watched her progress and laughed. He let her kneel beside Esteban's lifeless form only to take her by the arm and force her to her feet.

"Señora Castillo, what I said just minutes ago goes for you as well. For now, you will tend to the mestizo's injury. Make sure he is fit to leave. Then, you and the rest of your family will leave this village never to return. I strongly advise that you move to another part of Mexico."

Flor raised her head and met the captain's cold eyes. She would have liked to jump at his throat and rip it open to avenge the death of her man. Instead, she found herself nodding and allowed him to lead her to where Johnny was now lying on the ground.

Lopez kicked Johnny viciously once again, eliciting a groan of pain.

"Look at him… your so-called saviour. Look at him good, Señora, and ask yourself whether it was worth helping him. Think about what else you could lose, if you continue to help him."

Flor gasped as he grabbed her arm and forced her to kneel before him.

"Now, make sure that he's fit to leave within the hour," he added, pushing her toward Johnny. "It is the very last time you will be allowed to help him."

The young woman swallowed her tears and pried Johnny's hands away from the wound.

"No… leave me alone," Johnny said. "I… I don't deserve your help, not anymore," he pleaded.

His breathing had become erratic and the pain so acute that he could hardly stop crying out loud.

"Shhh, don't talk. We knew what we were getting into, Niño. Don't blame yourself for what happened."

"But…"

"No but, Niño."

"Better listen to her, Mestizo," Lopez said, listening closely at their exchange. "Or else I'll send you packing with a bullet in your thigh. You won't last long alone in the desert with an infected leg and fever."

"Bastardo!" Johnny hissed.

"Get moving, Señora Castillo, before I change my mind."

Flor checked Johnny's leg more closely. Raising her head, she dared look straight into the captain's eyes. When she spoke, her voice was soft and could barely be heard by any other than Lopez and Johnny.

"Please, can you get him moved to my house? I don't have what I need to dig out the bullet."

Although not pleased with this request, Lopez knew the woman was right. He glanced at the crowd and spotted Flor's brothers. "You," he said, "carry him to your sister's home. I'll be right behind."

As the small group got near the house, Lopez turned to face the crowd that had followed them at a respectable distance.

"You have nothing to do here. Go back to your homes and take care of your business. Don't ever get involved with Madrid or the Castillos. If you do, the consequences for this village will be terrible. It's my last warning."

Lopez turned his back and entered Flor's house, watching as she removed the bullet. Johnny had lost consciousness at one point and could not be revived. The captain had had no choice but to let the young gunfighter stay a couple more days.

On the third day, when Johnny finally woke up, Lopez had personally taken him to the edge of the desert and sent him packing on a skinny horse.

Johnny wasn't a fool though. He was almost sure the captain would give him a slight advantage and then he'd send men after him. What Lopez didn't know was that the young gunfighter knew the desert like the back of his hand. He went into hiding and waited a few hours, until he was sure the Rurales hadn't found his tracks.

Even if the bullet was out, Johnny knew he still needed help… and he knew where to get it. Once he made sure he wasn't followed, he went to Sonoyta and sought Roberto's help. The man had hidden him in the basement of his shop, in a small room concealed behind one of the walls of his secret cache of arms. And he had enlisted Lucinda's help to care for the young gunfighter.

A few days after, Johnny had left in the dead of the night and crossed the border. He needed to make himself scarce on the Mexican side for a while, to wait until things settled down a bit before returning and resuming his fight against Lopez and Castaneda.

/ / / / /

_(Two weeks ago…)_

A lurch brought Johnny back to the present. He looked around him and noticed they were almost to their next stop. He would be glad to get off the stage and stretch his legs and back a bit. He was beginning to feel pretty cramped inside. He was eagerly looking forward to a cup of fresh coffee and a sandwich to put in his stomach. He doubted they would stay at the depot very long that suited him. He wasn't exactly welcoming the next stretch of his trip but the sooner he'd reach his destination, the sooner he'd know what exactly Flor's problem was and how he could help her.

The least he could do, considering all that had happened because of him, was being there for her and her family, no matter what. He should never have let them help him in the first place. Nothing would have happened to them had he left them alone. Nothing.

He snorted in derision. Who was he trying to kid? Sooner or later, Esteban would have made a move. It was bound to happen as he wasn't the type of man to lay back and watch his people being abused over and over again. Johnny now understood that it was exactly why Flor and the villagers didn't hold Esteban's death and his brothers' fate against him.

After that terrible day, he had met with Flor or her brothers a few times in the course of his activities. None of them had tried to go back to Santa Ana because they didn't want to endanger the townsfolk. But all were still working covertly, hoping to find a way to get rid of both El Capitán and Castaneda. But, that never came to be as even the attempted revolution had failed miserably with the death of one of Flor's brothers added to the weight on his conscience. _That_ was another reason for him to answer her summons.

All Johnny now needed to figure out was how to get there without Lopez finding out. And that in itself would be pretty hard since Lopez had eyes and ears almost everywhere.

/ / / / /

"San Diego, here we come," Val shouted, scaring the hell out of Scott who was deeply lost in his thoughts.

Not waiting for his companion, the lawman spurred his horse and went galloping toward the town. He was weary and in great need for a good meal along with a refreshing drink, a hot soak and some shuteye in a soft bed.

Unknown to him, Scott was thinking more or less along the same lines and soon, the two men rode side by side as they entered the town.

They headed directly to the livery, left their horses and went to a small hotel nearby. WhenVal heard Scott ask for a single room with two beds, he almost groaned aloud… Thing is, he couldn't really complain since the Lancers were paying all his expenses. The least he could do was share a room with Scott and be quiet. So, he didn't say anything and just followed Scott when the young man went out again. If he knew anything about his friend's brother, it was that their next stop would be the barber shop for a nice soak and a shave. Johnny was right. Never had Val met a man so obsessed with cleanliness.

About half an hour later, the two of them, feeling definitively refreshed, stepped out of the shop and leisurely walked to the El Toro Loco saloon, only a block away. Val had assured Scott it was the best in this part of the town. Scott had no choice but to trust the lawman as this was his very first visit to San Diego.

As the young man was about to push the batwing doors, someone bumped into him and almost made him stumble. Val reacted quickly, grabbed the man, swirled him over and held him by the front of his shirt.

"Hey, watch your step, cowboy!" he told him roughly.

"Sorry. Don't get on your high horse, Mister. I meant no harm… just lost my footing, is all!" the man said, in a voice slightly slurred, while looking up and staring at Val.

"By God, Crawford! Is that really you?" the man said, his face coming alive with a huge smile.

"Yeah, it's me, Bob," Val answered, his own smile replacing his earlier scowl. He dusted the man's jacket before releasing him. "Where's your shadow?" he asked, looking around.

"Jimmy? Inside… Waiting for me. I… We sss… Why don't you join us, Val," Bob said. "You and your friend," he added after glancing Scott's way.

"Sure. Why not?" Val responded. "They're friends," he whispered to Scott as he pushed him inside and followed Bob up to a table right in the middle of the place – not Val's choice but one which he couldn't exactly dispute. And, to top it all, they would be seated with their backs to the door.

Scott sat down and looked at Val with a small grin plastered on his face.

"Don't say a word just yet, Scott," warned Val under his breath.

"But…"

"No 'but', I'm hungry, comprende? First, we eat and we drink, then we'll talk and maybe drink again. That's how it goes with these guys. And don't you dare say what I think you were about to say."

Scott nodded and remained quiet while Val motioned for the bartender and asked the man to bring them food and fresh beers. They all ate with gusto and as soon as they finished, Bob put his hands on the table and stared at Val.

"So, what brings you two to San Diego? You wouldn't be lookin' for Madrid, would you?"

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

**A Past Forever Present**

**Chapter 32**

_(Two weeks ago…)_

"Now, wait a minute…" Scott said.

Val promptly put his hand onto Scott's arm to restrain him, effectively stopping the younger man's next words.

"Madrid? What makes you think we been lookin' for him?" Val said.

"Everybody knows Madrid's your pal, and …" Bob started.

"…he was here not long ago," continued Jimmy.

"And so you think we're here for him," Val said, scratching his chin.

"Well, ain't you?" Bob asked, raising his glass to gulp down the contents.

Val smiled and relaxed a bit. He looked briefly over Scott's way. The young man had a slightly puzzled expression but remained thankfully silent.

"Well, as a matter of fact, we are. When did you say you saw him last?"

"Yesterday," Jimmy said. "Came out of one coach and jumped into another not long after."

"You sure it was him?"

"As sure as I see you, Val," Jimmy said. "A bit surprised, I was. Heard say he'd been executed down in Mexico couple years back. Guess the reports were wrong, huh?"

"Dead wrong! So, you spoke to him?"

"Nah! He looked kinda thoughtful. We didn't want to intrude, you know," Bob said.

"Didn't want him to butt your sorry asses to Hell, more likely," Val said, now laughing openly.

Bob and Jimmy exchanged a knowing look and laughed too. "That's right, Val," they both said at the same time. Then, glancing in Scott's direction, Bob continued, "Who's this, Val? You haven't introduced us."

"Didn't I? Sorry. Meet Mr. Scott Garrett, directly from Boston. Mr. Garrett, meet Bob and Jimmy, the inseparable Carter Brothers."

Val tried to hide the smile that threatened to appear on his lips as he watched Scott quickly cover up his surprise at hearing the name 'Garrett'. While the young man shook hands with the brothers, he asked the bartender for another round.

"Don't tell me you came all the way from Boston to hire Johnny Madrid?" Jimmy said, perplexed.

"Not exactly. In fact, I'm… a writer and Mr. Crawford has promised me an interview with the notorious Johnny Madrid."

Val almost choked on his beer. For a moment, he had been afraid Scott would tell about his connection to Johnny. Bob and Jimmy were friends of sorts, but until Val knew which way the wind was blowing with regard to them both being in California, he didn't want Scott to reveal his real name. He realized he should have trusted the young Bostonian to do the right thing.

"You write dime novels?" asked Bob. "No wonder Madrid looked so pissed off," he continued, smiling.

"I'm a serious writer," Scott said, feigning to be offended. "I'm writing a book about life in the Wild West and famous gunfighters. Mr. Crawford graciously offered to be my guide and provide some introductions."

"Yeah, sort of," Val acquiesced. "So, now… Which way did he go?"

"Took the Tucson stage," answered Jimmy. "Didn't look too pleased 'bout it. Don't blame him none… I hate stages, too. Too stuffy."

Val exchanged a look with Scott who nodded discreetly.

"And what are you two doin' here?"

"Movin' up to Nevada," said Bob.

"You mean goin' back home, huh?"

"Yeah. We think it's 'bout time. Figured that with you turnin' lawman and Madrid not bein' 'round anymore, the business isn't as fun as it used to be," Jimmy said.

"Gettin' a big reputation was never in our plans, not like some others," added Bob. "We're too old to continue. But, we're glad to see that Johnny's alive. He sure is a mean bastard, but dyin' that way, it ain't a way to go. Would a been a shame in his case."

"Madrid's a lucky bastard, you know that. Well, it's been nice to meet you but now, we have to go," Val concluded, as he put his now empty glass on the table, followed by Scott. "Good luck to you."

"Goin' after him, huh? Well, have fun trackin' Madrid, Mr. Garrett," Bob said. "Johnny hates talkin' 'bout himself. Let me tell you, you'll need more than luck to catch him and get him to talk."

"Oh, I'm sure Mr. Crawford will help me with that. Thanks all the same," Scott said as he and Val got up and shook hands with the brothers once again and then hurriedly left the saloon.

"Now what?" asked Scott, as they stepped outside.

"Let's see when the next stage is leaving. Could be a tad faster if we take it as well. "

"Could be. But who's to say that Johnny will go all the way to Tucson?"

"It's a risk we'll have to take. Let's go! Time's awastin'."

/ / / / /

Jeremy Browne rode as if the devil was after him. Only a few more miles and he'd be at the crossroads. Traveling alone had allowed for greater speed and he was pleased with his progress. This meant he'd be in Tucson at least one day, maybe two, ahead of schedule. That would give him time to inquire discreetly about Johnny Lancer and plan his next move.

He hoped to intercept the young man before Johnny crossed the border. Jeremy had been privy to the latest reports regarding the activities of the so-called Johnny Madrid and his association with the rurales. Of course, his former employer, the Governor of Texas, now knew about Ortega's deception but still, it meant bad news for the real Johnny Madrid. If the ex-gunfighter were to enter any of the towns where he used to work, he'd be stepping right into a hornet's nest.

Somehow, Jeremy was persuaded that Flor's message was a trap. He had never met the young woman but knew that she and Ortega were also acquainted. What he couldn't understand yet was why Ortega had been posing as Johnny Madrid and had hooked up with Lopez, their archenemy. If Jeremy wanted to help Johnny, he would need to find out what kind of threat Ortega really posed for Johnny.

The sheriff stopped in Blythe to rest for a few hours before tackling the next part of the journey – one which would take him first to Phoenix and finally, to Tucson. Less than two days and he'd have a better idea of what lay ahead.

/ / / / /

Murdoch was elated. At last, he had learned more from Tierra. Feeling guilty, no doubt, the young woman had met with him and her father in the dining room. It turned out Johnny had indeed mentioned a small village – Santa Ana – near Sonoita.

As quickly as he could and without offending his host, Murdoch had left the hotel and rushed to the telegraph office. By now, his son and Val were probably about to arrive in San Diego. He sent one wire to them and one to the attention of Jeremy, in Tucson, with instructions for the operator to deliver the message to Jeremy's hotel. Hopefully, either Val or Jeremy would know something about this village. Murdoch could only cross his fingers and hope that they would find Johnny before anything happen to him.

/ / / / /

_(Now…)_

_Once again, the door to the cell opened.__ Johnny, huddled in a corner, his back propped against the damp wall, raised his head. An elderly peon followed by two younger men carrying what appeared to be a filthy mattress entered._

_They dropped the mattress in the opposite corner and hurried__out while the old man covered the mattress with a thin sheet and left another sheet for Johnny to use as a blanket. He left without saying a word. Johnny closed his eyes, without moving from where he was, too tired to react one way or another._

_An hour or so later, the door opened again to__admit someone else. This time, Johnny didn't even bother looking up to see who it was. It was only when he sensed a presence in front of him that he raised his head._

"_I am Doctor Gutierrez. I have been ordered to clean and dress your wounds," a tall and skinny man said._

"_Wh…?"_

"_I have been told…"_

"_Just… wanna know why?" Johnny asked, his voice thick from not having been used in a while._

"_I am not __aware of what the lieutenant intends to do with you."_

"_Lieutenant? Lopez?"_

"_Si."_

_Johnny barely hid his surprise. Seems his capitán had been demoted. No wonder the man was hell bent on getting his revenge. It wasn't only for Santiago's death or Johnny's lucky escape from the firing squad then. It was more personal… which made the man even more dangerous._

"_Come here, young man, so I can check your wounds."_

_Johnny tried to get up but his knees buckled and, were it not for the doctor, he would have crumbled on the ground. The man helped him to the mattress and took the remnant of his shirt off. Johnny heard him gasp._

"_It's that bad, doctor?" he asked softly._

"_Let's say it's not very nice to look at," Doctor Gutierrez said, sighing "I am sorry, but it will hurt."_

"_I'm used to the pain, doctor. Don't worry. Just do what needs to be done."_

_And, stoically, Johnny endured the painful ministrations without uttering a sound. Once it was done and his back was bandaged properly, he was given a new shirt along with a pair of white trousers to replace the rags he was wearing. He snickered. Now he had a much better idea of what awaited him._

_The doctor left and Johnny finished dressing quickly. Feeling a presence behind him, he turned and faced the door. A man was standing in the doorway, his face hidden __in shadow._

"_¿Teniente, está aqui par a ver se me veo presentable?" __(You're here to see if I look presentable, Teniente ?)_

_/ / / / / _

_(Two weeks ago…)_

Boy, he hated traveling in a stage – particularly in this part of the country. It was hot and dusty, even with the curtains down… and boring, utterly boring. Even more so when that meant he had to listen to the incessant talk of businessmen. Not for the first time, he wished he'd ridden a horse instead of being stuck here. He couldn't wait until they hit their next stop – which would be Arizona City. He was of a mind to rent a horse and ride the next stretch. Anything would be better than the stage. Anything!

Trying to shut his mind off, Johnny let his thoughts wander to his new life. And thinking about that new life kind of made it a struggle for him to revert to his Madrid persona. The closer he was to his destination the more he realized he missed Scott, his Ol' Man, Teresa, Jelly, Val and the many friends he'd left behind. He even missed Dewdrop! Although he knew his principles would keep him going, he felt like turning around to return to Lancer.

Soon the stage arrived at the depot in Arizona City. Johnny used the 45-minute stop to ponder his options while having a quick meal at the cantina.

When he came out, ten minutes before the stage's scheduled departure, he had made up his mind to continue until Gila Bend. Once there, he would rent a horse and ride over to Sonoita, on the other side of the border. He would stop at Mamacita's bordello to see if she could shed some light on Flor's summons.

/ / / / /

On their way to the depot, Scott and Val stopped by the telegraph office and found Murdoch's wire waiting for them. They hurried to the stage depot, only to be told that the regular stage was leaving the next day. However, luck was with them as a special coach – transporting urgent mail destined for Fort Yuma – was due to leave later that same day. Posing as a lawman on a mission accompanied by a journalist, Val was authorized to claim two of the available seats. Now, Scott would need only to play the part and, judging from how he had acted in the saloon, Val had no doubt it would be a piece of cake for the young man.

Aside from Val and Scott, there were three other persons traveling in the stage. One was a mail employee and the others, military officers returning to their post. After the initial greetings, the officers talked among themselves while the mail employee slept. Not wishing to let the others know the reason for their hurry, Val and Scott stuck to small talk.

Soon, Scott pulled his hat over his eyes and fell into a slumber, knowing Val would watch his back.

_/ / / / / _

_(Now…)_

_Lopez was at his desk when he heard a knock._

"_Come in," he said, irritably._

_As he put down his pen and raised is head, he saw Doctor Gutierrez stepping inside the office and closing the door behind him. The man looked nervous and stopped behind the visitor's chair. Lopez motioned for him to sit down, which the man did__with visible unease._

"_What is the problem, Doctor?"_

"_I went to see the prisoner, as you ordered."_

"_And?"_

"_He's in bad shape, but you already know that. If you want him to be ready for what you have in mind…"_

_Lopez looked at him sharply and raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue._

"… _I suggest you feed him well, get him to exercise some. He needs fresh air. A short walk in the morning and another in the evening should help."_

_Lopez made no comment but seemed to ponder the doctor's words. _

_Unnerved by the silence, Gutierrez prompted, "I know how you work. This young man can't stand any more torture. And I'm sure you won't want him to steal your moment of glory by being too weak__to withstand more of your 'fun'__with him."_

_Lopez laughed. "You do know me well, Doctor. Do what is necessary,__but__I shall__make sure__that__he's watched at all times when he's out."_

"_As you wish," the doctor said, getting up and making for the door._

"_Wait!"_

_The man stopped and turned to face Lopez._

"_I shall hold you__responsible,__should he__make any__attempt to escape."_

"_Of course," the doctor said, finally opening the door and leaving the office._

_Lopez took a cigar from his box and lighted it. After a few puffs, he slumped down in his chair and smiled. At last, Madrid was in his power. It had taken time, but the waiting had been worth__the pleasure__it__brought. His smile grew larger as he remembered the event that__had__led to Madrid's capture._

_Finding__his enemy's__hiding__place__had taken time__– a little more than two years,__in fact. At first,__Lopez__had thought he would need to cross the border and find Johnny himself. He hadn't relished__that thought – his kind didn't cross the border, not ever, as they had no authority on the other side. But, to find his quarry, he would have gone to Hell without__a second thought for the possible consequences. It was then that he had remembered the uncanny resemblance between another mestizo and Madrid – a man who, at one time, had been very close to the pistolero._

_Locating Ortega had been the easy part as he was locked in a cell.__Persuading Ortega to work for him had been a little tougher than he'd__anticipated, but in the end, money and flattery went a long way. Lopez had succeeded in convincing the young man he could take Santiago's place by his side and become the most feared outlaw on both sides of the border. However, in order to do__so, Ortega would need to make people believe he was Johnny Madrid – turned bad. The former capitán thought that if the real Madrid heard about what was happening in Texas and Mexico, he would come out of hiding to clear his name,__and__this would lead him into Lopez's trap.__After two years,__however, the Mexican had__had to admit his plan's failure._

_Lopez was looking for another__strategy when, one day, not long ago, he had come across Flor Castillo, the lovely young widow of the Alcalde of Santa Ana, where Madrid had been hiding following his near-death at the hands of Castaneda and his men five years ago. And it had given him an idea._

_He'd had her __followed discreetly to discover where she was living. Then, a few days later, he'd instructed his men to take her children along with her remaining brother into custody and to make sure the neighbors would tell her what had happened. It hadn't taken long for her to storm into his office later that same day. _

_Judging from her reaction when she'd seen him behind his desk, it was obvious she wasn't aware he was now stationed in Nogales. He'd taken great pleasure in seeing her discomfiture. But he had to give her credit – she had recovered quickly and had proudly demanded to know why he'd taken her family. Hell, she even had addressed his as "teniente"!_

_As much as this title made him cringe inwardly, he had smiled. Dios, he loved spirited women. Maria had been one and now the Señora Castillo. He relished the thought of submitting her to him and, when he felt a familiar pulse in his groin, he envisioned taking her right there, in his office, in front of his attendant. Maybe he'd even let the man take his pleasure as well, once he'd be done with the young widow. But… business first. There would be enough time for pleasure after. _

_The look in her eyes when he'd finally told her what he was expecting from her was priceless. She had flatly refused but, as soon as he'd mentioned the fate that might await her children and her now crippled brother, she'd melted down some. Still, Lopez sensed he'd need to push her a little bit more. In the end, he had told his attendant to take the children and Felipe in the courtyard and put them in front of a firing squad. _

_Roughly grabbing Flor by the arm, he'd taken her in__to the courtyard. When she saw the children aligned beside her brother and five men about to shoot them in cold blood, she had relented and finally agreed to do everything Lopez wanted. _

_/_

_He had first doubted__that__the message Señora Castillo had sent to the young pistolero would bring him back to Mexico. How could those few words she had written be sufficient when__not even__Ortega's__posing as Madrid and destroying the pistolero's reputation with the peons had__lured__the boy back? If Lopez had received such a missive, he would not have been foolish enough to come. No, he'd have first sent someone to check it out and see if it was safe__to__answer the summons. _

_Madrid must have gone soft now that he was using the name of his gringo father and had become a respectable__rich ranchero, living the high life in California. A place that used to belong to Mexicans before the Americanos had stolen it from them. He hated the Americanos, all of them – and particularly Señor Murdoch Lancer, the father of the little weasel who had been the ultimate cause of his demotion. The same Murdoch Lancer who had stolen the heart of his future bride only to toss her out when she had given him a mixed-blood son._

_But now, the boy – he still couldn't bring himself to consider him a full-grown man – was his prisoner to do with as he pleased. This time, he would not repeat the error he had made five years ago when, in a rare moment of weakness, he had decided to be magnanimous and spare the teenager. For a moment that day, thoughts of his beautiful Maria had crept into his mind. Because of her, he had let himself feel something for the young mestizo. But this time, he would make an example of Madrid. And he would not let anyone else do the deed. He would kill the young man himself, very slowly and in front of the very same people Madrid had once tried to help. The little bastard would pay dearly for all the troubles he had caused. And this time, his brother-in-law wouldn't be there to protect the young pistolero. Lopez snorted. Santiago… this was another reason for El Capitán to hate the boy – Johnny Madrid had killed Santiago._

TBC


	33. Chapter 33

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 33

_(Twelve days ago…)_

Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. They were almost in Gila Bend and it was high time. A man and two women had joined him and the three remaining male passengers at Griswell Station. The four men had engaged in a conversation, leaving Johnny alone once they realized he wasn't interested in joining them. Between that and what, according to the two women, was the latest fashion in Saint Louis, he had had about enough and was at the end of his rope. His fellow passengers – male and female alike – were damn lucky he didn't have his gun. He was about ready to shoot them all and to Hell with the consequences.

Gila Bend would be his last stop, as far as he was concerned. He'd passed through the place before, back when it was little more than a tiny Godforsaken place whose name he didn't remember. It sure had changed. Now it was a bustling town with all the amenities that came with it, which should make it easy for him to find a good horse.

The stage came to a stop and the passengers disembarked. Johnny was the last to step out. As soon as he retrieved his gun and his saddlebags, he went to look for a horse. Less than two hours later, he was ready to leave.

His saddlebags filled with trail rations and ammunition, he vaulted onto the back of an inconspicuous brown horse and rode south, toward the border. There was still enough light left to allow him to ride a few more hours before the need to make camp arose. He spurred his horse and let him take the lead.

Johnny was anxious to get to the other side of the border but knew he'd have to proceed with caution once there. He could only hope his four-day-old stubble and the changes to his physical appearance would be enough to make him unrecognizable – at least, at first glance.

Around noon the next day, he reached the border. He stopped and stroked his horse's neck as he looked over to the other side… where Sonoyta lay. In a matter of minutes, he'd be riding toward his destiny. For a moment, he wished that Scott could have been with him to watch his back. He shook his head, feeling he was about to make a mistake… a deadly one. Thing is, without the Castillos' help, he'd have been meat for the buzzards years ago. And because of him, Flor had already lost too much. He was indebted to her and it didn't matter that he might be riding to his death, he would pay his debt. Only once this was done would he finally be able to turn the page and, if God permitted, forget about Johnny Madrid and spend the rest of his life as Johnny Lancer.

Still, he wished he could see his father and his brother one last time, let them know he cared about them; make them understand why he was going back. But then, that would mean he'd have to tell them about some of those things he wasn't sure he wanted them to know. How could he explain what he had tried to do without touching on the many bad things he'd done in the past? A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he realized the fear of being a disappointment to his family was what prevented him from talking about the past – HIS past.

With a snort, he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind… it was time for Madrid to appear. He was about to step into another world, one where he would need all his wits about him if he wanted to have a small chance of getting out of there alive. Retrieving his hat from behind his back, he placed it on his head and took a deep breath. He held the reins firmly and kicked his horse's flanks. From this point on, there was no turning back.

Thirty minutes later, he reached the outskirts of Sonoyta. As he rode in, he noticed the place hadn't changed much. Dirt still clung to everything that stood in the small town, including his body. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the first time he and Roberto had met and how they had ended up "working" together.

Johnny had learned early that sometimes hiding in plain sight was the best thing to do. Sonoyta had been one of the places he'd go whenever in trouble, in part because it was very near the border and in part because of Lucinda. She had been a friend for as long as he remembered and Johnny knew he'd always be safe with her. One day, when he had been too sick to care for himself, he'd gone to her. Of course, she'd taken him in and nursed him back to health. Once he'd recovered, the girls had been more than eager to let him use his 'charms' on them. Lucinda had allowed it for a few days but in the end, it wasn't good for her business, so she had stepped in and decided it was time for her young charge to leave. Besides, the longer he stayed in town, the more dangerous for him. And although none of the girls would have betrayed him, it wasn't wise to tempt the Devil.

Lucinda had introduced him to Roberto who was the owner of the General Store, the town's gunsmith and her love interest at the time. Wary of each other at first, the older man and the young pistolero barely over sixteen had struck an unlikely friendship once they realized they were more or less pursuing the same goal. Whereas Johnny was trying to thwart El Capitán's plans for the fun of it whenever he could, Roberto was working toward a bigger goal: financing a revolution to shake the strong hold some powerful hacendados and corrupted rurales officials – among whom Lopez was possibly the most corrupted – had over the peons.

This idea of a revolution appealed to Johnny who saw in it a way to atone for his misdeeds. When Roberto had offered to help him by providing a place where he could both hide whenever the need arose and obtain various supplies, including weapons and ammunition, Johnny had readily agreed to help prepare the peons to fight when the time to launch their revolution arrived. It wasn't long after their first encounter that he had discovered one of Lopez' hiding places and raided it, taking the weapons he had found as well as two sacks of gold coins back to Roberto after paying Ortega and his mercenary friends, Buck and Wade.

While Ortega had remained in Mexico, Johnny and his friends had crossed back to the American side only to split up shortly after. Johnny had chosen to stay near the border, hoping to hear about his El Capitán's reaction to the robbery and the message he'd left him. Even though Johnny knew he was playing with fire by doing so, he enjoyed making the capitán's life a bit more difficult. He just couldn't help himself as he felt the man deserved it.

Two and a half years ago, it was in disguise that Johnny had ridden to Sonoyta to meet with Roberto. It was time to smuggle the weapons out of the gunsmith's secret back store and take them to San Joaquin, a medium-sized village near Nogalès from where they intended to launch the guerilla attack. Once again, Johnny had recruited Buck and Wade, with whom he had rendezvoused in Lukeville. The young gunfighter felt it was a shame Roberto couldn't join the fight as he was a crack shot and a great asset in any fight. But, the man's participation needed to remain unknown should something go wrong. When they had started collaborating, Johnny had insisted on being the only one to work in the open.

Of course, both Johnny and Roberto knew there was a high risk that the revolution might fail – much as had happened when Johnny had fought against Castaneda and El Capitán a couple of years before. But the peons were getting desperate and neither he nor Roberto had had the heart to remain deaf to their pleas. Johnny had done his best and taught the men to use fire arms as effectively as possible and slowly, they had prepared the big day. Maybe their example would somehow make a difference this time. Maybe El Presidente would wake up and realize how greedy the rurales and the landowners were. In any case, Johnny had decided that this job would be his last. If he survived the encounter, he would seek his father and deal with him once and for all.

With his imagination entertaining possible outcomes, each more dreadful than the other, Johnny had gone back to Lukeville, where Buck and Wade were waiting for him. They had reviewed their plan and ridden back to Mexico the following day. When at last they reached San Joaquin, Ortega was already there, waiting impatiently for them, and with him were the Alvarado brothers. The two young men were dead set on being part of the game even after what had happened to their brother-in-law and his brothers in Santa Ana, their home village, years ago. Nothing Johnny said could have stopped them from coming.

Johnny was now in front of Lucinda's lilac painted house. From the outside, it looked like any respectable house, except for the discreet sign announcing the name "Casa d'Allegria". He dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching rail. Examining his surroundings, he made sure his presence hadn't attracted any undue attention. For the moment, although the town was buzzing with the day-to-day activities, the house itself looked quiet. It was still a bit too early for the clients to start coming in, which suited him well. Satisfied, he pushed the door open.

_(Twelve days ago…)_

Fort Yuma was right around the bend, a mere two miles away. Barely able to hide their growing impatience, Val and Scott exchanged a look. Despite being unable to discuss as freely as they would have liked, they had, however, spoken vaguely about the next stretch of their journey, agreeing upon buying horses once they hit Arizona City.

The fort stood on a high bluff on the west bank of the Rio Colorado. On the opposite side lay Arizona City, the sunniest place on earth, according to Val. Once they stepped out of the stage, the two men walked to the crossing and paid for their passage on the next steamboat to depart.

From the boat, as they neared the other embankment, Scott noticed that most of the buildings of the rapidly growing city were made of adobe, just like the Lancer hacienda. Vegetation was sparse. No shade trees of any kind, only desert trees, creosote bushes and other desert shrubs and plants. Nothing like the lushness of the San Joaquin Valley but still, it was a beautiful sight in its own way. Scott remembered with fondness how Johnny's voice had been filled with longing whenever he spoke about the beauties of the desert. At the time, he couldn't understand how someone could find the desert beautiful but now, seeing it with his own eyes, he wished for Johnny to be with him. He wanted to hear his brother's voice as they rode together with the wind at their backs, free of care about anything and anyone.

For the young man, this was unknown territory. In his two years at Lancer, most of his travels had taken him to San Francisco and places such as Sacramento, Modesto or Stockton. But he was aware that Val knew this part of the country like the back of his hand. It had been one of his playgrounds back when he was deep into his gunfighter years… at least that's what he'd mentioned to Scott.

Just as the sun made its descent over the horizon, the two men arrived in front of the horse trader's place. After bargaining for the sake of bargaining, they bought two sound horses which they then left at the livery. This was followed by a quick bite at the local cantina and a stop at the General Store to get some supplies. They finally checked in at the hotel shortly after eight o'clock. Too tired to converse, they soon fell asleep in their respective beds.

When Jeremy arrived in Tucson, it was past ten o'clock. Most of the townsfolk were in the safety of their homes, preparing for sleep. Only the saloon was still open and, judging from the noise he could hear as he passed in front of it, its customers were having a good time. He resisted the urge to stop for a beer and headed directly to the El Presidio, where he knew Murdoch Lancer had made arrangements for his stay.

Judging from what he could glimpse this late in the evening, the two-storey Victorian style inn looked relatively new. He wouldn't have minded taking a room above the saloon or one of the boarding houses but Lancer was paying and the least he could do was to indulge Johnny's father's choice of lodgings for him. Leaving his horse tied at the hitching rail in front of the inn, he grabbed his saddlebags and his rifle and climbed the few steps leading to the porch.

Small as it was, the place had nonetheless an air of grandeur that took Jeremy's breath away. Ornate mirrors and paintings hung from the walls on either side of the hall. A few leather armchairs flanked the left side of the hall. Towards the middle of the right side, an archway led to the dining room. The front desk was situated right at the end of the hall, a few feet from a stairway leading to the rooms on the second floor.

Jeremy approached without attracting the attention of the young clerk who was attending the front desk. The clerk was busy reading what appeared to be a copy of the Arizona Citizen. Jeremy coughed to announce himself and nearly burst out laughing when the young man almost jumped out of his skin.

"Good evening," Jeremy said.

The clerk lifted his eyes from his newspaper and scrutinized him, disgust clearly showing on his youthful face. Truth be told, Jeremy was in a sorry state, his dust-covered clothes a witness to the duration of his journey.

"I'm sorry, Sir, we're booked," the clerk said in a flat tone.

Jeremy smiled. "I'm Jeremy Browne. I believe Mr. Murdoch Lancer has already reserved a room in my name."

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Browne. Yes, indeed. We were not expecting you until the day after tomorrow."

"No harm done, young man. Now, would you be so kind as to give me the key to my room?" Jeremy said as he signed the register, noticing, as he did, that there was only one other guest listed. He was sorely tempted to make a snide remark but held his opinion to himself.

"Of course, Sir. It's right up the stairs, second door to your left."

"Thank you. Would you mind having someone care for my horse? I left him tied up in front of the hotel."

"Yes, Sir. Oh, uh, Sir… this came for you this morning with the mail," the clerk said as he handed Jeremy an envelope.

Jeremy took the proffered envelope and thanked the clerk; he turned on his heels and wearily climbed the steps leading to the second floor where his room was located. The stairway and the corridor were lit up by candelabras spaced at regular intervals. They shed enough light for him to see inside his room once he opened the door. Quickly, he lit the lamp he found on the top of the nightstand and shut the door behind him. He dropped his saddlebags to the floor and tossed his hat on top of them, then fell onto the bed, where he lay sprawled for a few minutes.

Boy, he was tired… way too tired to think straight. The telegram would wait till morning. He closed his eyes, too weary to undress and let Morpheus carry him into oblivion.

_(Twelve days ago…)_

Familiar scents assaulted Johnny's nostrils as he made his way inside the cozy place. It brought back memories of the few times he'd been here, whether to take his pleasure with the girls or to have Lucinda take care of him somehow. The girl who was behind the bar was unknown to him and he wondered if any of the "old" girls were still working here. No sign of the bouncer, though. He'd have to remember to tell Lucinda she was lacking and needed to make sure the man was always at his post, even this early in the afternoon. One could never be too cautious as trouble could rear its ugly head rather quickly in any of the border towns. Come to think of it, trouble actually had a way of finding him, even when he wasn't looking for it.

"Buenos dias, Señor."

"Hola!"

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Tequila, por favor."

The young woman served him promptly and, as she put the glass in front of him, she smiled seductively. Johnny smiled too and swallowed his drink. She sure was pretty, and despite his resolve, he felt a familiar stirring… but now wasn't the time. He motioned for another shot and turned to look around, leaning against the counter. Just as he did, he saw two young ladies coming from what he knew was Lucinda's private parlor. They were talking animatedly, without watching where they were going. When they spotted him, they stopped and looked him up and down unashamedly.

Of course, he had recognized them at first sight but was waiting to see if they would figure out who was hiding under the dust clinging to him like a second skin. He couldn't help the slow grin that was starting to appear on his lips when he saw that recognition was slowly showing on their pretty faces.

"Is it you, Juanito?" they both said at the same time.

"Si, it's me."

They squealed with delight and jumped into his arms, ignoring the dust.

"We thought we would never see you again," the girl on his left said.

"Hush, Chica. I don't want anybody to know I'm here. Get Lucinda for me, will you?"

"Better yet, we'll take you to her," the one on his right said as she took his arm and led him toward the parlor.

"She'll be so happy to see you," the other girl said, taking his other arm.

Soon Johnny found himself standing in front of a closed door. The girls elbowed him playfully, motioning for him to knock. As soon as he was told to enter, they left him. He opened the door, stepped inside and, as always, was taken by the lavishly furnished parlor. Shutting the door behind him, he stood where he was, unmoving, letting the memories flood into his heart.

Lucinda was sitting at her desk and, other than telling him to come in she had not acknowledged his presence further. He walked up to her desk and stopped, waiting for her to say something. When nothing came, he uttered a single word, very softly, barely audible.

"Mamacita."

There was a slight catch in his voice as he spoke. Although he tried to hide the emotions he felt upon seeing the woman who had been there for him so often in the past, he was rather unsuccessful. Years ago, after his mother's death, in Johnny's mind Lucinda had become like a mother to him. He called her 'Mamacita' so as not to betray his mama's memory. She was one of the few people from his past whom he loved unconditionally. After all, without her, he'd have had nowhere to go when in deep trouble.

Lucinda finally put down the pen she was holding and closed her ledger. She looked up and seized him, wrinkling her nose in the process.

"You stink, Chico. You need a bath."

Her words were met by a heartfelt laugh.

"Go to your old room and come back once you are presentable."

"Si, Mamacita," he answered, still laughing.

An hour later, feeling decidedly refreshed and dressed in clean clothes, he went back to the parlor. Lucinda was now sitting at a small round table with only two chairs near the back of the spacious room and when she saw him, she motioned for him to join her. A couple of dishes were laid on the table along with a tall glass of milk, no doubt for him, and a cup of tea for her.

"You haven't shaved."

"No. I don't want to be recognized," Johnny said as he sat on the second chair.

"Well, you haven't fooled the twins. What makes you think you will fool El Capitán?"

"What makes you think I'm looking for him?"

"Why else would you come back to a place so dangerous for you, Chico?"

"Actually, Mamacita, you're wrong. Flor asked for me."

Lucinda looked at him, shaking her head slowly. "Your soft heart will be the death of you, mi hijo."

Johnny grinned, "Yeah, maybe."

They ate in silence. Once they had finished, Johnny got up and started to move restlessly about the room, picking up objects here and there and playing with them before putting them back. Lucinda watched him for a few minutes. She got up, too, and moved over to a couch at one end of the room, just below an ornate mirror.

"Come here, Juanito," she said, patting the couch with her left hand. "You're making me dizzy".

Johnny sighed but obeyed and plopped down beside her.

"Now tell me everything. What really happened after your sorry hide was saved by an 'angel'?"

He looked up, surprised that she seemed to know about that. "Wasn't no angel… just a man sent by my father."

"Ah… so, you've met your papa then?"

"Si. Been with him ever since. He… He isn't the monster I believed he was."

"I've always told you there are two sides to any story. I'm glad you didn't put a bullet between his eyes, like you always said you would."

Johnny smiled. She had, indeed, told him several times and each time he had told her that what he'd do to his father wasn't any of her business. But, he had always known she was right. No matter what he felt about his father, if he ever met him, he'd have to listen to his side of the story, just like he'd been doing before deciding on which side of a range war he'd fought.

"You know I would never say anything bad about your mama, don't you?"

"Si. I know," he said softly, not sure if he wanted to hear anything about his mama just now.

"Maria was very beautiful and wild. Her family spoiled her rotten. They gave her everything she ever wanted but it never was enough. She always wanted more and was impossible to satisfy. What happened between her and your gringo papa was probably as much her fault as it was his."

Johnny nodded. "You know, he never threw us out… She just took off with me one day and followed a gambler. I wish she would have left me with my father. My life would have been so different."

"Your mama loved you, mi hijo, that's why she took you. She made mistakes, big mistakes, but she's always loved you. You've got to believe this."

"I know that. But, when I learned the truth, I wanted to hate her and I just couldn't. I'm ripped up inside. She lied to me, made me believe he was a monster. I still love her but I feel as if I'm betraying my father by loving her. Silly, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. But your papa wouldn't want you to hate her. Does he know about the life you've led, the things you've done?"

"Hell, no… I mean he knows some. Whatever those Pinkerton agents he sent after us told him. I wouldn't want him to know everything. He'd despise me and I don't want that."

"He would not. Your papa is a good man. He was deeply in love with Maria."

"How do you know?"

"I met Señor Lancer twice. The first time was in Matamoros, a few days after he started courting Maria. And then, I saw him again a few months later in Nogalès. They were on their way to your papa's hacienda, in California. They were happy, as happy as a man and his wife could be when they were expecting a baby."

"You never told me that," Johnny said, in a reproachful manner.

"You were not in the mood to hear anything about your papa. You were a very angry young man and you thought becoming a pistolero was the answer to your problems. You were convinced it was the only way you'd be respected by the Mexicans and the Gringos alike."

Johnny smiled sadly. "Guess I was wrong, huh?"

"Well, you got respect… and people feared your gun. But, you led a lonely life for one so young and you were unhappy. I feared you'd never find happiness."

"Don't worry anymore, I found happiness, at last… And, you know what? I found myself a big brother too."

"Bueno. I hope he keeps you on your toes."

Johnny burst out laughing. "He sure does. You would like him, Mamacita, he's a good man and my best friend."

"I'm sure I would. Now, what brings you here?"

"The past. What else do you think?"

"Leave the past where it is, Juanito. Don't throw your new life away."

"I'm not throwing anything away, Mamacita," Johnny said, getting up again and resuming his restless pacing. "I got Flor's husband killed. I just can't forget that.

"Esteban knew the risks, they all knew but they chose to help you. You can't be held responsible for everything that went wrong that day."

"That may be so, but I still owe her my life. I can't ignore her summons."

"I know that. You wouldn't be who you are if you ignored her. But, how sure are you that she sent the message?"

"It was her writing."

"Have you thought that this may be a trap?"

"Why are you saying that? What do you know that I don't, Mamacita?"

"Well, there have been some rumors lately."

"Rumors? What kind of rumors?"

TBC


	34. Chapter 34

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 34

_(Now…)_

_Lopez stood behind his office window and peered outside while he stroked his moustache. The chilling smile that cur__ved his lips gave him a sadistic look. Below, enclosed in the heavily guarded courtyard, half a dozen prisoners were taking their daily walk… among them, his sworn enemy, Madrid. The young man's movements were followed very closely by two armed guards who stood on a platform at one end of the courtyard, their rifles aimed directly at his knee, should he try to escape. Lopez had given them strict orders – to graze the prisoner was allowed, to kill him wasn't. And they knew better than to disobey his orders._

_The lieutenant found it highly rewarding to have the boy he hated so much__finally at his mercy. This time, nobody would intervene; nobody would rob him of the satisfaction of putting an end to this miserable worm's life. And end it he would, in the worst possible manner. The damn mestizo would be stripped of everything – his pride, his future and, at the same time, Lopez would exact revenge against Murdoch Lancer. The gringo held as much responsibility as the half-breed for his demotion, if not more. If Lancer hadn't sent the man in black with a bribe to free the pistolero, and if his own men hadn't been so greedy, Madrid wouldn't have been a thorn in his side these past two years. _

_Lopez__ couldn't understand, though, why the rich rancher had offered money for Madrid's life – he recalled Maria's account of the way Murdoch Lancer had treated her and their mixed-blood child, how he had one day shown her the road along with her little mistake. So, why would the man go to all the trouble to free__that same "mistake"? It didn't made sense unless… unless his beautiful Maria had lied. But still, whether she had or hadn't, the mere fact that__Madrid had gone back to his father's ranch, where he now reportedly lived in luxury, made Lopez' thirst for vengeance even greater. Not only would he enjoy the opportunity to kill his young enemy, he would also rob Lancer of an heir. _

_Lopez snorted. When Madrid had finally been captured days ago, he'd been tied on a horse, blindfolded and taken to Nogalès. Once there, four of the peons who had taken part in the failed revolution had been told to whip the young pistolero. They had balked at first, until Lopez had__explained__in sickening detail what he'd do to their wives and children, should they dare to defy him._

_Two years ago, when the rurales had crushed the revolution, most of the leaders had been captured along with Madrid and had been executed. Their followers had been imprisoned or set free and heavily fined acording to their degree of involvement. After all, neither Lopez nor the hacendados could afford to empty all the villages of their workforce. In order to continue enriching themselves on the peons' backs, they needed to keep them under their thumb. And, what better way to do that than to threaten their loved ones?_

_Thus, it had been easy for Lopez to convince the chosen peons. Their cooperation had been so thorough that they had nearly dispatched his prisoner right into the next world. Lopez had been so angry that he had almost ordered the peons to be killed on the spot but, in the end, he had decided to let them live a little longer. They and their families would get to watch the demise of the pistolero who had once put his life on the line for them – only afterward would he deal with them. _

_The lieutenant had had to admit to himself the boy had grit, though. Madrid hadn't uttered a single word up until the last man had started on him. Then, he had gasped aloud and right after the last of the five remaining lashes, he had lost consciousness. Two of the peons, cheeks wetted by their tears, had carried the prisoner to a cell where they had been told to dump him. _

_Lopez spat on the ground below his window. Dios, he despised weak men. No wonder their so-called revolution had failed, even with the help of the likes of Madrid and his gringo friends – friends who had ultimately sold the young pistolero in exchange for their freedom. He had made it a point, at the time, to tell his enemy what they had done to save their own miserable lives. _

_Now, he would once again force the villagers to watch him deliver their fallen hero to Hell. Flor Castillo would get to stand up front. He might even let her speak with Madrid or better yet, he'd make sure Madrid knew she also betrayed him and lured him into a trap of his own device. He couldn't wait to see the pistolero's reaction…and then, when everything was over, he'd take the lovely widow to his bed. If she was able to please him, he might even keep her for himself. If not, he'd give her to his men or he'd sell her to a whorehouse. _

_Lopez' mouth twitched. In a few days, his honor would be restored and he would at last be able to turn the page and get on with his life. His mistakes would be forgiven and he'd even recover__his rank once Madrid__was gone. With the boy dead, he'd also earn the everlasting gratitude of Magdalena, his dear sister whose husband, Santiago, had died at the hands of the young mestizo. Yes, life was definitely going to be sweet, once Madrid was__out of the way… permanently. _

_Homesick! That's how Johnny felt as wave after wave of a strange feeling crashed over him. He had never really experienced that in the past, as he'd had no place__to call home for a long, long while._

_He walked back and forth along the far side of the courtyard, a few feet from the high fence; aware hate-filled eyes followed his every move. He couldn't let on that all this was slowly destroying him, sapping his energy, his will to live. Oh, he'd try to fight but the more time passed__,__ the less hope he had of escaping__his predicament. Hell, he didn't even know how long he'd been in this accursed place. He finally stopped and sat at one of the tables in the middle of the yard. As much as he appreciated these few moments out in the open, he wished to be alone, away from anyone's eyes so he could think freely about his family without having to hide his feelings, or to pretend he was stronger than he felt. _

_Dios, he missed them so much… his family. He bowed his head and, for a few moments, was transported back home. As if in a dream, he saw Scott, Murdoch, Teresa and himself sitting at the table, cups of steaming coffee in their hands, all half asleep except for Teresa who would be chatting on and on and on. They'd be waiting for their breakfast to be served by Maria, their housekeeper. Johnny's mouth watered. He could smell the sizzling slices of bacon and Maria's specialty, her own version of rancho huevos. It was so much better than the tasteless mush they were served here. Back home, his plate would be__groaning, courtesy of Maria, who always seemed to think her "niño" was underfed. No wonder he had filled out since his arrival at the hacienda two years ago. He couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He sure had her wrapped around his little finger._

_Johnny shook his head, his vision fading as quickly as it had come. He got up again and resumed his walk along the other side of the yard, alone. He watched the other prisoners talk among themselves for a few minutes, well away from him. He was aware they'd been told rather brutally that they weren't allowed to approach him. It suited him fine; he wasn't exactly good company right now. _

_As he passed below the window where he knew Lopez still stood, he looked up. Unable to stop himself, he gave a mock salute to the lieutenant and was, for a moment, satisfied to see the man's face darken. Then, he saw Lopez make a sign and only seconds later, two guards roughly grabbed him and forced him back inside. He had the feeling his newly-acquired twice-a-day walk had just ended as quickly as it had begun and that as of now, he would__see only the inside of the filthy cell he shared with cucarachas and rats. But now, he even welcomed the arrival of the small rodent that always shared meals with him. However, a talk with Arthur the Rat wasn't as much fun as one with his beloved Barranca, but still, it prevented him from going totally loco._

_(Twelve days ago__…)_

Murdoch's sleep was brutally interrupted by a persistent knock on his door. He staggered out of his bed and called out as he got to the door, his voice husky.

"What is it?"

"An urgent telegram for you, Sir," a youthful voice responded.

Murdoch opened the door just widely enough to grab the envelope and went back to his bed. Eyes still blurry with sleep, he ripped the envelope open and scrunched his eyes to read the missive. It was short and to the point, very Scott-like – "On our way to Tucson. Nothing yet."

The message fell from his numb hands and he sighed. All this waiting reminded him of another time he had waited and waited for news of his wife's and son's whereabouts. Year after year, he had received the same type of reports: "In such and such a place. No news. Do you wish us to continue our search?" It had been hard, very hard, especially when he had been forced to tell the Pinkerton Agency to stop their investigations. He had run into some trouble over at the ranch and had needed to invest the money he would have used otherwise to pay the Agency back. But, he had never stopped dreaming of the day both of his sons would be reunited with him. So, whenever he could, he had asked the private agency to resume their search for his missing wife and child. On a few occasions, he had even left the ranch to search for them himself, but to no avail.

Time had passed and he'd always receive the same information… up until the day the Pinkertons had finally located his youngest son, or rather discovered the name under which he was known and why it had been so hard to find him. To realize his beautiful baby boy had become the infamous gunfighter Johnny Madrid had been a shock and at first, he had not tried to get in touch with him. It was only when the trouble with Pardee escalated and Paul was murdered that he had asked the Agency to contact his two sons. Murdoch shuddered… to think that a few minutes more and he would never have had the opportunity to be reunited with his youngest son.

He cursed Maria under his breath. Even today, he still didn't know why she had run off with a gambler and, moreover, why she had taken their child with her. Why had she not gone back to her family? She must have known the border towns weren't a good place for a mixed blood child like theirs. Had she hated him so much? Unfortunately, he would never know the answer and he doubted Johnny knew it either. He had not asked because although their relationship had improved a lot, Maria was still a sore subject. Neither was at ease talking about her but Murdoch knew they would need to clear the air. He didn't even know for sure that she was dead. Johnny had only told him she was gone… and that didn't necessarily mean she was dead.

Murdoch got up and moved over to the window. He pushed the curtains aside and peered outside. The bright sun that greeted him promised another hot and sunny day. Would he be able to stay behind and continue waiting, not knowing what to expect? Murdoch sighed again. He needed to make a decision and gave himself the day to think things over, but he was sorely tempted to answer the call of Tucson.

_(Twelve days ago…)_

"You still haven't answered me, Mamacita. What kind of rumors?"

Lucinda raised an eyebrow and sighed. "That Johnny Madrid has turned from the people's hero into a cold blooded killer."

Johnny had expected the worst, but not this. He grabbed a bottle of tequila and two glasses from Lucinda's liquor cabinet and returned to the table.

"And what do you think, Mamacita…?"

"You have to ask?" Lucinda answered without hesitation.

He passed his hand through his hair and sighed. He was aware of Lucinda staring at him and found comfort in the fact she didn't believe he had turned bad. But it was not this woman, this house of protection he had to worry about. It was what awaited him beyond these doors…what truly lay behind Flor's letter.

Johnny gulped down his drink and poured himself another one. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Who the hell had dared to usurp his identity and moreover, why? Was this the reason Flor had called him? This definitely made things a hell of a lot more complicated. He got up, looked at Lucinda with a sad smile and made for the door without another word.

"Where do you think you're going, Chico?"

"Getting my gear. I have to leave."

"Oh no, you're not. Not before you think carefully about what you're going to do and how you're going to approach this."

"But…"

"No but… You sit back down and start planning. You can't go there blind. You need to look at all the possibilities. Isn't it what you usually do?"

"Si," Johnny said, conceding Lucinda's point. "You know me well, Mamacita."

"As if you were my own son," Lucinda said. "Besides, the girls will be disappointed if you don't stay at least one night," she added, a wicked smile on her lips.

Johnny laughed and sat back on the couch. He knew exactly which girls she meant. He wasn't sure he was in the mood for sex but knew he would stay, nonetheless. He needed a good night's sleep in a soft bed in a place where he'd be safe, and here was the safest place for him to be.

The face of Tierra, the beautiful girl he had fallen for back in Los Angeles, suddenly flashed in his mind. She wouldn't approve of him spending the night with the twins. But, he didn't have to tell her, did he? Besides, he had made no promises to her… Well, other than giving her his mother's ring – which was, if he really thought about it, some kind of promise. Swiftly, with a small pang of regret, he relegated Tierra to the back of his mind; he'd deal with that later. He had not, after all, made a vow of chastity.

"All right, I'll stay but only one night. Tomorrow morning, I'll leave."

"Bueno, Chico. Now you're being sensible."

"I think I'll head over to Roberto's and talk to him, maybe he knows something."

Lucinda's face blanched and she lowered her head but not quickly enough for Johnny to miss the tears that started to swell in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Mamacita?"

"He is not here anymore."

"He's gone? Where to?"

"Roberto is dead, mi hijo."

Johnny moved closer to Lucinda who by now sobbed uncontrollably and took her in his arms.

"What happened? When?" he asked gently as he patted her back with one hand, all the while dreading the answer.

_(Twelve days ago…)_

Jeremy opened his eyes slowly, yawned and turned on his other side. Too early, it was too damn early to wake. The bed was so comfortable that he closed his eyes again and sighed contentedly.

Just as he started to drift back into Morpheus arms, he abruptly bolted upright. "The telegram," he muttered.

Awareness of where exactly he was returned and he got up. His steps took him to the washstand. He poured water in the basin and used his hands to splash his face. 'That ought to wake me up good', he thought. Then, he looked for the envelope and found it where he had dropped it the night before, near his hat. With a grunt, he bent down to retrieve it and read the message.

"_He may be heading over to Santa Ana."_

_ M._

Jeremy smacked his head. Santa Ana! Of course, that's where Johnny would look for Flor Castillo. Hell, maybe he should go over there and see for himself. But then, a small doubt crept up his mind. Hadn't Johnny mentioned that after her husband's death the young woman, along with the rest of her family, had been banished from the village and told never to set foot again in or near the village or else she would regret it?

He knew for a fact that Lopez was on the lookout for Johnny, so it was more than probable he had the place still watched by some of his men. Although his friend was most probably throwing himself into the lion's mouth, Jeremy was sure he wasn't dumb enough to show his face in that particular village. So, where would he cross the border and where would he go to obtain some information about what was going on?

"Think, Jeremy, think," he said aloud. "What would I do if I were in Johnny's boots?"

Jeremy closed his eyes and mentally reviewed all the crossing points he knew of. All of a sudden, it dawned on him. "Lucinda," he muttered. "He'll go to Lucinda's place," he continued louder. "That's the only place where he'll feel safe enough."

At once, he gathered his saddlebags and left the room. On his way out, he stopped at the reception desk.

"Get me a piece of paper, something to write and an envelope," he requested from the clerk.

"Give this to either Scott Lancer or Val Crawford," he said, a few minutes later, as he handed the enveloped back to the clerk.

"Shall I keep your room then?"

"Yes. I'll be back – hopefully."

_(Twelve days ago…)_

"What if he's dead?"

Val stared at Scott, his eyes hard. "What's your gut feeling?"

Scott dipped his head and passed his hand on his face. "Alive," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I'm sorry, Val. I guess I'm exasperated."

Val just grinned. He knew Scott was worried. Heck, he was, too. Particularly because Johnny had a knack for getting himself into a load of trouble. And he had the feeling this time wasn't any different.

"How are we going to find him? It's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Hey, don't you worry! I know all about Johnny Madrid's playground. Believe me, Boston, we'll find him. The only question is, in what state?" Val said, as he kicked a loose pebble with the toe of his boot.

Despite himself, Scott grinned. It was the first time Val used the nickname that Johnny had given him when they first met. "That's what I'm worried about," he finally said, sighing.

"I know. Let's get moving, compadre. We still have a few hours of daylight left."

TBC


	35. Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

_(Eleven days ago…)_

Although Lucinda knew only a few details, Johnny had been able to figure out from what she had told him that their mutual friend had been ambushed and shot in the back… and reportedly by none other than Johnny Madrid.

Johnny snickered. Someone used his name... that was just plain ridiculous because everyone who knew him also knew he wasn't prone to back shooting – never had and never would. The real question was why and why now, after he'd been out of the business for two years? The "not knowing" made him shiver as he realized the implication. Then, he wondered if anyone else had been hurt because of their past association with him.

He was glad though that neither Lucinda nor the girls had been harmed, at least, not up to now. He needed to keep them safe and the only way to do it was to leave and avoid any more visits to the Casa d'Allegria, in case the place was being watched. He vowed not to come back until he'd been able to sort out this mess. He would miss them all, particularly the twins and his Mamacita. But, it would be safer for them without him around.

Besides, if El Capitán ever learned Lucinda had hidden Johnny numerous times in the past and had, furthermore, introduced him to Roberto, he wouldn't hesitate to make an example of her. The fact she was a woman wouldn't count at all. Lucinda had been – and still was – like a surrogate mother to him and he would never forgive himself should something happen to her because of him.

Despite the sad news of Roberto's death, Johnny and Lucinda had spent a few hours reminiscing about their common past. He was already aware Lucinda and his mother had been childhood friends, but today she had taken the opportunity to tell him more about herself and her very good friend Maria. The knowledge that their respective families had been very wealthy was news to him. Lucinda's family had met with disaster and lost everything they owned, which ultimately lead to their parents' death. She and her sister had been forced to leave their beautiful estancia which had become the property of a powerful landlord. They had travelled north and then east until they reached Matamoros where they had had no choice but to sell their bodies in order to survive. Lucinda's sister had died giving birth to the twins – Mia and Sara – and she had cared for them ever since. Later on, she had met a rich merchant who had fallen in love with her and had provided for her and her nieces. Upon his death, she had moved to Sonoyta and opened her own bordello with the money he had left her.

Two years after Lucinda's relocation in Matamoros, Maria had arrived too. According to Lucinda, Johnny's mother had fled her home after her father had tried to force her into an arranged marriage with the son of that same powerful landlord who had destroyed Lucinda's family. All Maria had wanted to do at the time was to marry the handsome commoner she had fallen in love with. So, she had left family, home and friends behind, never to return, and went to Matamoros, where the love of her life was supposed to meet her... except he never showed up.

She had waited for a while, but Maria had never been the patient type and soon, she had stopped waiting. No, Maria had been a free spirit and couldn't be contained – that, Johnny already knew. It was while in Matamoros that she had encountered a rich gringo rancher – Johnny's father – and left with him for his grand estancia in the San Joaquin Valley. Lucinda and Maria had then lost sight of each other and it was only when Maria came back south of the border that they had met again. Thus, Johnny had more or less been brought up with the twins – at least when he and his mother were in Sonoyta's neighborhood. Even after Maria's death, Johnny had continued to visit whenever he could as it was the only place he felt safe. They had also talked about his newfound family and this "dandy" who was not only his brother but his best friend as well.

After they'd finished eating dinner, Lucinda left Johnny alone so he could think about his next move. Once he was satisfied with his plan, he got up and stretched his back. He looked at the clock and smiled. He left the study and went in search of the twins. He found them in the entertainment room, both sitting at the piano and playing a lively tune while one of the other girls sang. He positioned himself so they could see him and slightly cocked his head, making eyes at them and waiting a minute or two before leaving.

They had a hard time finishing their piece but, as soon as it was done, they both disappeared from the room. Lucinda was in her usual spot, supervising the evening, making sure everything went smoothly. She smiled when she saw in which direction her nieces were heading.

Soon, both were at Johnny's door, giggling helplessly. They rushed inside and firmly barred the door behind them.

Shortly after dawn, Johnny woke up; Mia and Sara snuggled on either side of him. In those two years in California, he had forgotten how sweet the sisters were. Gently, he disentangled himself and kissed each girl on the cheek without waking them up. He quickly performed his morning ablutions, got dressed and left the room – the room Lucinda had always kept for him ever since he and his Mama had returned years ago. On his way out, he stopped by Lucinda's study to talk to her one last time before his departure. He braced himself, knowing she would try to stop him but he was determined to go, no matter what argument she might use to convince him.

_(Eleven days ago...)_

His decision made, Murdoch left the hotel and went to the stage depot to inquire about the next departure for San Diego. Once his ticket was bought, he stopped at the telegraph office and sent two wires – one home and one to the attention of Jeremy, Scott and Val, in Tucson.

By now, Murdoch was certain Johnny was already in Mexico. Had he known for sure his son had gone to Santa Ana, he would have headed over there directly. He still had a few contacts south of the border, but he felt that attracting undue attention might not be wise, especially as it was through his intervention that his son had escaped from the rurales' clutches two years ago. There was a chance they were aware he was Johnny Madrid's father and they might take the opportunity to get their hands on him and thus gain some leverage against Johnny to force him to surrender. That was if his boy wasn't already their prisoner. No... Tucson was the best place for him to be, and to hell with his bad back. He needed to be closer to his son, to be there, no matter what the outcome.

Ten minutes before the stage was due to leave, Murdoch stepped inside and wedged himself between two middle-aged matrons. He would by far have preferred to sit near one of the windows but those seats were taken. Across from him sat a young couple with a little boy of about seven. The boy, with his dark hair and vivid blue eyes reminded him of Johnny and of everything he'd missed while his son was away, surviving as best he could.

No sooner had the stage left the station that Murdoch opened the newspaper he had bought and immersed himself in the latest news from Los Angeles which, for once, was "fresh". He needed to keep his mind occupied somehow so as not to think about the fact he might be too late to save his son this time, although his gut told him otherwise. Soon, however, the movement of the stage lulled him into sleep.

_(Now...)_

_Lopez looked one last time at the letter he held and put it down with a satisfied sigh. He pushed back his chair, got up and went to the window. Below, the courtyard was empty; all the prisoners had either been taken back inside or sent to work in the fields or the quarry. His stomach growled and a look at the grandfather clock made him realize it was time for lunch. _

_He retrieved his gun from his desk drawer and strapped its gun belt around his hips before he donned his jacket. On his way out, he grabbed his sombrero and within minutes he was outside, a hand shading his eyes from the bright sun. Then, he put his sombrero on his head, took his time to adjust it and looked around, a satisfied smile on his lips. _

_Dios, he felt so good. In a few days, the thorn in his side would be removed forever. In a few days, his life would take a turn for the better. He would at last be given his due and this time, nobody would stop him. _

_He had always been very ambitious and had always known where he wanted to be... or rather, who he wanted to be... "Governor Lopez". He said it aloud a few times. Dios, it sounded great. He would be so powerful that even the likes of Castaneda would bow to him. Yes, the future – HIS future – looked great._

_(Ten days ago...)_

Scott and Val finally made it to Tucson. The last stretch had been pure hell. Feeling a sense of urgency, they had pushed their mounts to the limit. So much so, in fact, that they had to exchange their fatigued horses for fresher mounts in one of the small towns they'd encountered.

Dead tired, dusty and smelly, the first thing they did after leaving their horses at the livery was to walk over to the hotel they had all agreed upon as a "meeting place". Under other circumstances, they would have headed for the barbershop for a long-overdue bath and a shave but both knew meeting Jeremy, if he was already here, was their priority.

Val stepped into the hotel, closely followed by Scott, and gave his name to the clerk who scrunched up his nose before he gave him the letter Jeremy had left for them along with a key.

"Room's right up the stairs, second door to your left," the young clerk said, trying to hide his disgust at his guests' looks and smell. Val snickered.

"Probably a message from your dad," Val said as he took the letter and glanced Scott's way. "Tell me, has Mr. Jeremy Browne checked in yet?" he asked, facing the clerk again.

"He was here a few days ago, but he left the morning after his arrival in a hurry and said to make sure you got this letter as soon as either you or a Mr. Lancer came. He also said to give you his room."

"Shit!"Val said, irritably. "Why the heck did he leave without waiting for us?"

"Let's go to our room first, Val. No need to discuss private matters in front of an audience", Scott said, taking the envelope from Val's hand.

The Sheriff followed Scott into Jeremy's room and sat on the bed with a heavy sigh.

"Damn! And here I was hoping we'd find Jeremy waiting for us so we could decide what's next. What the heck happened?"

"I suppose the answer might be in this letter he left us. Shall we open it?"

"You need to ask? Open the darn thing." Val growled.

Scott opened the envelope and when he took out the letter, another piece of paper fell on the carpeted floor. While Val bent to retrieve it, Scott started reading aloud.

"Gone to see Lucinda. Meet me there."

"Lucinda? Damn! Ain't I stupid or what?"

"Who's Lucinda?"

"A madam."

"A... what?"

"Nothin' wrong with your hearin'. She's helped Johnny often."

"And no doubt he shared her bed, too, I suppose," Scott added wryly.

Val almost choked laughing. "Oh boy, are you wrong, Boston. Lucinda is like a mother for Johnny. She was his mama's friend. Fact is, the one who's been sleepin' with her is Jeremy."

Scott's cheeks turned an interesting shade of red and Val laughed even more.

"Will you stop laughing, Val?"

"I'm tryin'... Sorry."

"Now what? Are we really going there?"

"Well, if Señor Gringo said to meet him, we'll go. I just hope he'll still be there by the time we set foot in Sonoyta. If not, we'll keep missin' each other and that won't help Johnny much."

"I suppose so. And what about that sheet of paper you're still holding in your hands?"

"Oh that? Ain't read it yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Gettin' there. Don't climb on your high horses."

"Hurry up, Val! I'm at the end of my patience."

"It's from your father," Val said after reading it. "It says that Johnny might be heading over to Santa Ana. But, I doubt it."

"Why?"

"That's where Johnny met Flor the first time. After her husband's execution, she was forced to leave the village and told never to return. It's too dangerous for Johnny to show his face there."

Scott scratched his nose. "I see. What then?"

Val folded the message and put it back in the envelope along with Jeremy's letter.

"Well, I heard there are a couple of hot tubs waiting for us down the street."

"You're thinking about a bath when we have more pressing matters to take care of?"

"A hot bath, a shave, somethin' to put into my belly and a good night in a soft bed, in that order."

"You..."

"Scott, there's nothin' we can do tonight, it's too late," Val said, gently. "You don't wanna just up and go. We need a plan. We outta make the best out of our short time here, don't you agree?"

Scott shook his head. He knew Val was right. Besides, if Jeremy had been at the hotel, they would have done the same thing, considering the time they had arrived in town.

"So, what are you suggesting?" he asked a now smiling Val.

An hour or so later, two refreshed and much better looking cowboys stepped out of the barbershop.

"Drink first or somethin' to eat, Boston?"

"Both. As long as there is nothing remotely like beans, jerky and pan-fried coffee."

Val laughed. "Mexican food?" he asked, licking his lips in anticipation of a good meal.

"Whatever. Let me tell you, I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow, even one stuffed with chilli peppers."

Val let out a hearty laugh. "Great. Let's go to the Casa Mexicana, the best place north of the border."

"Lead the way, Val, my friend. I'm right behind you."

Less than fifteen minutes later, the two men were waiting for their meal. The aromas coming from the kitchen at the back of the restaurant made Scott's stomach grumble, much to Val's pleasure. They both ate with gusto and, once their bellies were full, they went back to the hotel.

_(Now...)_

_As usual, Johnny was alone in his cell, except for Arthur the Rat who still kept him company. El Capitán seemed to have forgotten about him. Maybe it was better this way. He wouldn't be tempted to say something that would only infuriate the man and get himself into more trouble than he already was. _

_He was starting to feel better. The fever was gone, the food he was given was more palatable and, surprisingly enough, he was sleeping better, too. Maybe he could still hope for a good turn. _

_He snickered. Who was he kidding? He was totally and utterly alone and he only had himself to blame. He should have confided in Scott, or better yet, Val. His friend knew a lot about what he'd done – good and bad alike. Johnny knew Val would have left everything behind and followed him to the end of the world, just so he could watch his back and stop him from doing anything foolish, like getting caught like he had. 'Soft, Madrid, you're getting soft,' he thought._

"_Mierda, that ain't like me to feel sorry for myself," he said aloud, surprised at how raspy his voice was._

_Knowing El Capitán had played a heavy hand in how his "friends" had treated him made it easier for him to forgive them. Even Flor must have been forced one way or another. It had to be. She never would have betrayed him willingly. 'I hope I'll get to speak with her, find out what happened.' _

_Heck, Lopez would probably enjoy the whole thing. The man was so twisted, he wouldn't be surprised if he'd let them speak to each other, providing he was behind this whole mess._

_While Arthur munched noisily on a chunk of cheese, Johnny got up and resumed walking in circles, wondering how much time he had left. _

_(Ten days ago...)_

Jeremy rode as if the Hounds of Hell were after him. The last time he had set foot in Mexico, he had come face to face with Lopez and his bunch of cutthroats. If Roberto hadn't found him when he did, and taken him to Lucinda, he wouldn't have made it.

He'd been after Ortega, once again, and had caught up with the young man just a few miles on the outskirts of Sonoyta, at the edge of the desert. He had thought he'd be able to take Ortega back with him but he hadn't expected the rurales who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

He'd been effectively disarmed but before the rurales dealt with him, Jeremy had told Ortega how disappointed Johnny would be if he ever learned what the man he considered his friend had done. Ortega had only laughed. And then, Jeremy had heard a report and everything had gone black. When he finally awoke, he was at Lucinda's place... once again.

Finding himself there seemed to have become a habit. Ever since he had taken a wounded Johnny to Lucinda's place years ago, he had felt something special for the woman. She wasn't like the other ladies of ill-repute he had met and dealt with over the years, she was far more refined. There was something about her... something that made him return to the Casa d'Allegria whenever the occasion presented itself. Once, he had even proposed to her, but Lucinda was fiercely independent and had refused to follow him north of the border, saying she would feel like a fish out of water.

And now, he was back, this time to help his young friend, the boy Lucinda considered as her own son, the boy he would have gladly called son. He was happy Johnny had finally found his father and a brother. He only hoped the young man would have many years ahead of him to enjoy life with his family – providing he found Johnny soon, before he got into trouble.

As he rode, Jeremy found himself praying to God and all the saints he knew for the well-being of Johnny Lancer, once known to him as Johnny Madrid, the fearsome gunfighter.

Hours after, as dusk fell, he saw the outskirts of Sonoyta in the distance. He spurred his horse, taxing the poor beast for one last stretch. He wanted to be at Casa d'Allegria before the place got in full swing.

Dismounting in front of the lilac-painted house, he took the time to tie his horse properly. Without surprise, he found his heart beating furiously in his chest. He always felt that way when he was about to meet the owner of the bordello.

He waited a minute or two, his hand on the door's handle, waiting for his heart to calm down. Then, he pushed the door opened. Once inside, he surveyed the room quickly and found Lucinda behind the bar, talking with one of the girls. She raised her head, as if she'd sense his presence and smiled when her eyes met his.

"Señor Gringo, how nice of you to visit my humble place!"

Jeremy laughed. So far, there were only a couple of men in the room and both were being kept very busy by two young girls and never spared him a glance. Lucinda beckoned him to approach and, after whispering something to the girl she had been talking to, she ushered him into her study. No sooner was the door closed than they both hungrily kissed each other.

Lucinda was the first to break away. She looked at him and sighed. "I suppose it's not only for my beautiful eyes that you're here, Señor Gringo. You're after the Niño, aren't you?"

"He was here?" Somehow, Jeremy wasn't really surprised.

"Yes, he spent one night. He told me about Flor's message and that he felt obliged to help her, considering what her family has done for him. I tried to dissuade him, but you know how stubborn he is."

"Oh yes, I know. Has he told you where he was heading to?"

"Not exactly. He said he didn't want to put me in more danger than I might be. He also said he wouldn't come back here until it is safe for us all. He fears El Capitán might have spies in town. However, I do know where Flor lives."

"Don't tell me she has returned to Santa Ana?"

"You must be kidding! No, she's in a small village called Esperanza, near Nogalès. I'm sure he's heading that way. Unfortunately, El Capitán's headquarters are now located in Nogalès."

"Damn. And to think I was so near when I crossed the border. And how close to Nogalès was the village where the revolution took place?"

"Further south. But, it was near Nogalès that he was nearly executed. Why?"

"Just trying to think where he might go. But, I guess Esperanza is the logical choice, since it's where Flor lives."

Lucinda nodded. "It is getting late, Señor Gringo, and the roads are very dangerous. Will you stay the night?"

TBC


	36. Chapter 36

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 36

_(Ten days ago…)_

Jeremy had been very tempted to accept Lucinda's offer. God knew he needed a break – although to spend the night with Lucinda might not exactly be restful. However, he had learned the hard way to listen to his instinct. This time, he felt he needed to hit the road as quickly as possible. It was with great reluctance, then, that he had declined Lucinda's invitation to stay until the next morning. Instead, he had agreed to let her prepare food rations for him and share a quick meal. While they ate, he had told her about the note he had left for Val and Scott in Tucson, giving them a rendezvous at her place. But now that he was leaving and wouldn't come back, unless with Johnny, he left her with verbal instructions for them. What he really hoped for was that their respective paths would cross, although that was unlikely. At least knowing about his plans would allow Lucinda to tell them where he was heading to and, hopefully, this time they would meet and do whatever would need to be done together.

His horse was too spent to continue so he borrowed one from his lover. As he readied his new mount, the bad feeling he had experienced earlier settled deeper in his gut. He had to hurry or else he'd be too late to help Johnny. If that was the case, he would have a hard time forgiving himself.

In a way, luck was on his side. The night sky was brightened by a full moon and the roads were well lit. Once out of Sonoyta, Jeremy followed the border as closely as he could and rode for about three hours before he stopped for the night. By this time, he had reached a small village where Val, Johnny and he had spent a few days years ago. He knew he'd be well received, even though the hour was late.

_(Now...)_

_Johnny woke up with a start, his heart pounding furiously in his chest, his body drenched with sweat. This time, the nightmare felt much too real. It was always the same one – back when his mother died at the hands of Carlos, the last of his many stepfathers. Carlos had been the first man he had killed, out of desperation, at the tender age of 10. That day, he had left his childhood behind and had made the first step toward the road that had led him to gunfighting. The nightmares had stopped shortly after his return to Lancer but, of late, it seemed they had returned with a vengeance. Was it a sign he'd see his Mama again soon, before heading to Hell, where he belonged? _

_With his eyes firmly closed, he waited until his breathing returned to normal. Finally, he sat up and tried to remember happier moments, but even the memory of the short time he'd spent with Tierra didn't help. All he managed to do was think about how stupid he'd been. He was so mad at himself. If he'd not been so careless, he'd never had been caught by the mercenaries who were roaming the roads in and out of Sasabe, in disguise it had seemed, as if they had been looking specifically for him. _

_And if that was the case, it meant either that one of his many enemies had recognized him or that he'd been betrayed... again. But, the only people who knew about his presence in Mexico were the twins and Lucinda. And, he was sure none of them would say anything. So, that left the other girls... Or then again, that Flor's message had really been a trap but, he still couldn't believe she would have willingly betrayed him. No, something must have happened._

_Still, he should never have stopped in town in the first place. What had he been thinking? And where the hell were those warning bells of his, those that resided in his head and made themselves known whenever trouble was about to find him?_

_He snorted. Madrid had definitely lost his edge. Not a surprise. After all, he'd spent two years living mostly as Johnny Lancer. Of course, once his presence in and around the region surrounding the hacienda had been known, he'd had to deal with men looking to attain fame by beating Johnny Madrid to the draw and dispatch him to Hell. He was still alive; guess he'd won, hadn't he? Those encounters had left more notches on his gun, invisible to anyone but him._

_He remembered how mad Murdoch was at him whenever something from his past came up. For a long time, he'd thought his father was ashamed of having a killer for hire as his son. That had lead to both of them lashing out at each other numerous times. But later on, he had realized his Ol' Man was just worried sick about him and was reacting with harshness to hide his fear of losing him, this time forever. So, he'd tried his best not to let trouble find him too often. Been hard, very hard, but also very rewarding because, in the process, he had gained a real family; people who cared about him and about whom he cared. And that was the crux of his problem... now, he cared. No doubt, that's why he'd lost his edge, why he'd got caught._

_Why hadn't he skirted Sasabe instead of passing through? He'd had ample provisions – Lucinda and the twins had seen to that. Hell, they had even packed a small flask of tequila; in case he went thirsty they had told him, laughing hard at his reaction to their words. So, why had he stopped? _

'_I need to calm myself, can't let this get to me. I need all my wits now.'_

_Arthur the Rat sensed his state of mind and stopped munching his chunk of hard cheese to look at his friend. Johnny laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I know, Arthur. I'm a poor sight. Okay, I promise, I ain't gonna let despair hit me again. I'm gonna be strong, I'll show El Capitán – no, El Teniente – that Madrid is still here, somewhere. And I'm gonna show the bastard how a real man meets his end, because I know he's gonna kill me. He can't let me go, not this time. The only questions being when and how... and to tell the truth, I'm not even sure I want to know."_

_Johnny got up and started to walk in circles again. Not much else he could do. And while he walked, he recalled what had happened in Sasabe and realized that, no matter what, he would have stopped and helped. 'Damn! You're getting too soft, Madrid, too soft!'_

_(Ten days ago...)_

In San Diego, Murdoch only took a fifteen-minute break to eat a quick bite before the departure of the stage for Tucson. His back ached and he should have done the sensible thing, which was to stay put a few hours – a day even – and wait for the next stage. But, he had no time to spare, not if he wanted to have a chance to catch his son.

He cursed his son's folly for leaving like a thief in the night... and he cursed his bad back. Were it not for it, he'd be galloping toward Tucson instead of being forced to travel by stage. Better yet, he'd still be with Scott and Val. At the depot, while he waited, he bought another newspaper. For the umpteenth time, he wondered if he'd ever see his youngest again, alive that is.

_(Nine days ago...)_

Jeremy had only slept a few hours; barely enough for him to feel rested and be ready to tackle the next part of his journey. An hour or so before dawn, he'd left the small village behind and headed east, toward Esperanza and – he hoped – Johnny.

He'd have to be careful. Now wasn't the time to come face to face with the rurales and their captain or any of the mercenaries working for petty landlords such as Castaneda. Bandidos were a threat too and God knew there were plenty around.

His thoughts veered toward Val and, unsurprised, he found himself wishing the gruff sheriff was by his side. Together, they would wreak havoc, as much as Johnny Madrid could all by himself. Fighting alongside Johnny had always been kind of fun and interesting, although filled with danger. The thought of his very first encounter with Johnny made him grin – that was a perfect example of how crazy the boy was at times.

The adrenaline ran high when they roamed the roads together and, in truth, he missed that. Not that they'd worked together many times but it did happen in a few instances, mainly when Val and he had hired on as guards to protect shipments of gold and silver or a wealthy business man. Strangely enough, they had often stumbled upon a young Johnny looking for what the boy had called "normal work" between contracts. Jeremy still couldn't figure out whether it was Val or Johnny who attracted trouble more often. In fact, both were trouble magnets and both had a way with words that unnerved their opponents. No wonder they got along so well.

Thinking about all the mischief Johnny was capable of, even in dire situations, made him laugh out loud. Trouble could sure find the boy and this time it probably wasn't any exception to the rule.

_(Now...)_

_Johnny sat down on his mattress again and dropped his head in his hands. Until he had met the peon in Sasabe, he had not encountered any problems although he had noticed a lot of comings and goings in and out of town. This alone should have sounded an alarm bell in his head but hadn't. _

_His intention had been only to pass through the bustling border town as quickly as possible and without attracting undue attention. What he really should have done was skirt the town, but it would have taken time and he wanted to get to Esperanza rapidly. Unless absolutely necessary, he had not intended to stop anywhere, except for brief periods of rest for both him and his horse, and away from any of the border towns or nearby villages. _

_He knew the area like the back of his hand, knew all the safe spots. Going through Sasabe shouldn't have been a problem and hadn't been... until he had noticed a group of men who seemed to be having a good time at the expense of an elderly peon. The poor man had triggered a memory – that of the old man he'd seen in Morro Coyo, the day following his arrival at Lancer. That day, too, he had stopped and helped. True, he had had another motive at the time. He was hoping to meet Pardee, knew he would in fact meet him. He should have known, though, that in Sasabe, it could only lead to disaster. And it had. He snickered. Once again, trouble had found him, this time through his own folly._

_He had spoken up for the peon, his voice deceptively soft and the man who appeared to be the boss had laughed – a throaty laugh that reminded him of someone else, a man who had bullied him when he was younger. And, when he had looked more closely, he had realized that this man was the same one._

_Of course, he had opened his big mouth to say, "Hey Fernando! You haven't changed much. Still into threatenin' kids and old people unable to defend themselves."_

_And the man named Fernando had looked at him hard for what had seemed a long time. Then, he had smiled as his eyes had come alight with recognition._

"_I'll be damned! Is that you, Madrid?"_

"_Who else?"_

"_You sure have changed. Look at you, sporting a beard and all grown up. Makes you look older."_

"_Well, five years is a long time, Nando."_

"_Seems that life has treated you well. You're not as skinny as you used to be."_

"_Been lucky, I suppose... No thanks to you."_

"_Ah yes, that! You owe me. El Señor Castaneda wasn't very happy when he heard about your escape. And to think everything had been planned meticulously... you, losing your life blood, tied up in the desert, with a canteen out of reach just to tease you. It was perfect."_

_Johnny grinned. "I sure was lucky that day. Hey, he made you pay?"_

"_Oh yes, lost a finger because of you," Fernando had responded, showing Johnny the missing digit on his left hand. "But now that you're here again, I'm going to make sure you don't escape, this time."_

"_For that, you'll have to catch me and I doubt you can, seeing with who you're hangin' around – a bunch of drunkards," Johnny had said, spitting on the ground to show his contempt._

"_Dios, Madrid, you still talk big, huh? Guess some things never change, particularly in your case."_

_With this, Fernando's left hand had come up and those Johnny had thought were drunk men suddenly weren't drunk anymore. In their stead stood mercenaries... and that's when he realized most were the same ones Castaneda had employed years ago, when Flor and her family had ended up saving his life. _

_Oh, he had tried to defend himself, succeeded in harming or killing four of them in the process. But, in the end, they had prevailed and he had been captured. Strangely enough, though, apart from his initial wound to the arm – a graze, really – they had not harmed him further. No, they had simply bound his hands behind his back, hoisted him on his horse and blindfolded him. At the time, he had figured they'd take him to their boss, Castaneda. He could have dealt with that, but it wasn't to be and finding out many hours after that Lopez was behind his capture, well, that was entirely different, much more complicated and deadlier. _

_(Ten days ago...)_

They had made good time crossing the border and now, they rode as quickly as they dared, while trying not to attract too much attention. Val seemed to know where he was going, so Scott had let him take the lead. They stopped near a creek to refill their canteens and rest for a short moment.

As they were readying themselves to resume their trip, Val suddenly stopped what he was doing and looked at Scott, a frown on his face.

"What?"

"Scott, if we meet anyone, you let me do the talking, if there's any. You hear me?"

"Why?"

"I speak good Spanish, you don't. It's as simple as that."

"I speak well eno..."

"... and with a terrible accent."

Scott laughed. Thing is, Val was right. It hadn't been that hard for him to learn Spanish as it had common roots with French and Latin, two languages he knew well, even if he was a bit rusty, for lack of using them. By now, he understood well enough, so long as the people weren't talking too fast, but speaking was different. He was far better in writing and reading, better than Val, he suspected.

The young man smiled and nodded. He'd let Val have his moment of glory. Too much was at risk for him to argue with the sheriff and besides, Val was right. The sheriff's Spanish was almost as good as that of a native and, with his moustache and tanned skin, he even looked a bit Mexican. Scott had not needed his brother to understand that Val was also of mixed heritage, although it didn't show as much as it did with Johnny.

_(Eight days ago...)_

A few miles out of Nogalès, where a small mission coupled with an orphanage stood, a veiled woman walked toward the church and pushed the door open. Once inside, she knelt on the hard ground and crossed herself after dipping her hand in the holy water font near the entrance. She remained that way for a few minutes, head bowed, as if praying. Then, she got up and looked around the poorly furbished church.

On her left, a middle-aged priest watched her. Resolutely, she approached him. From the way his eyes smiled, she knew he had recognized her, even with a veil hiding most of her face.

"Padre Garcia, I... I need to talk to you. Would you have time?"

"Of course, dear child. Step inside the confessional, I'll be right there."

"No, you don't understand. I don't want you to hear me in confession. I need to talk to you. Can we go some place where there is no risk of being overheard?"

Padre Garcia looked at her, puzzled, but showed her through a door hidden behind some threadbare burgundy curtains that had seen better days and which led to his small two-room lodging adjacent to the church. He carefully locked the door after them and motioned her to sit at his table. To give her time to compose herself, he served her a glass of cold lemonade and took one for himself. Only then did he sit down.

"What can I do for you, my child?"

_(Now...)_

_The door to his cell opened and once again, the same elderly servant he'd seen since he had been imprisoned came in. One of the two guards also came in while the other stayed outside._

"_Move away, Mestizo. This good-for-nothing peon needs to clean your mess."_

_Johnny felt like jumping at the man's throat and choking him to death but it would only end up being worse for the poor servant. Instead, he moved back and waited for the peon to change his bed sheets, empty his chamber pot and give him some food. He would have liked to have clean clothes, too, but that might be asking for too much. The thought made him laugh out loud._

"_What's so funny?" the guard asked._

"_Nothing."_

_The guard approached him and Johnny moved a little further away. Not that he was afraid but he saw no purpose in antagonizing the man more._

"_I don't like being laughed at, especially by one such as you."_

"_Wasn't laughing at you. Just some crazy idea that crept up my mind."_

"_You tell me now or else..." he said, raising the butt of his rifle. _

"_All right. Why not give me clean clothes as well, on top of the rest?"_

_The guard snickered. "You won't need anything where you're going, Mestizo."_

_The second guard stepped in and threw Johnny a relatively clean pair of trousers and a shirt. "Here it is, Madrid. And I have news for you, too. In a few days, you'll be allowed out of this cell for a thorough clean up. You know what that means don't you?"_

_Johnny looked at him dispassionately. He recoiled further back and dropped his head. Of course, he knew what it meant but, hearing it like this got to him more than he'd have wanted to let it show. He was glad there wasn't much light in the cell and that the guards couldn't see him well enough to notice his disgust... and a touch of fear._

"_Then, why all this clean up, this time?" Johnny asked, as he raised his head and looked at the two men facing him while the old peon finished changing his bed._

"_You'll see. Get changed, now!" the first guard said._

"_You're gonna watch me?"_

"_I've seen naked men before, doesn't do anything for me," the first guard replied. _

"_Suit yourself," Johnny said as he removed the dirty clothes he wore and changed into cleaner ones._

_Once he was done, he moved back toward the back of the cell, waiting for the guards and the servant to leave, pondering why he'd been allowed to change and what was next, aside from him being taken to his death._

_(Eight days ago...)_

The woman removed her veil and Padre Garcia saw her eyes were moist.

"What is wrong, Magdalena? Tell me, please."

Magdalena dropped her head and nervously wrung her hands. "He will kill him," she uttered in a voice barely loud enough for Padre Garcia to hear her.

"Who will kill who? I'm afraid you're not making any sense."

"My brother... Maria's boy."

"What do you mean exactly? I don't understand."

"My brother has captured Madrid, the famous pistolero. And he intends to kill him."

"What does it have to do with you or with Maria's boy?"

"Nothing... and everything."

TBC


	37. Chapter 37

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 37

_(Eight days ago...)_

Padre Garcia was at a loss. He had met Maria over 12 years ago when he was working at the mission and the orphanage in Altar. She had certainly been a sinner and bad example for the other young women she had befriended, but he had never been disposed to throw the first stone. He was aware of the hard life she'd led, judging from what she had divulged to him.

When Maria had told him about the father of her startlingly blue-eyed son, he had been appalled at the rancher's behavior to her, how he had despoiled her and brought shame to her family. True, the gringo had ended up doing the right thing by marrying her, but only after being threatened by Maria's father. Then, he had taken her to his grand estancia in the San Joaquin Valley, north of the border, well away from her family and her friends. Two years after she had given birth to their son, the rancher had realized the boy still looked more Mexican than American – and always would – despite his blue eyes. He had thrown his wife out, along with her "mistake", as Maria had said he called their son. He even had the nerve to tell her never to return. It was no wonder that the young woman had turned bad, unable to return to her family without shaming them further and with her mixed-blood child, she had no means of support other than turning to sin.

So, when the Señora Santiago spoke of Maria's son, he knew who she was talking about. But what he failed to understand was what she meant when she said "Nothing... and everything."

He sat at the table, sipping his tepid lemonade, waiting for Magdalena to explain. When nothing further came, he realized he'd have to push her a bit.

"Magdalena, what do your brother, Johnny Madrid, and Maria's boy have in common?"

"Lots of things. When Maria was around sixteen years old, she met my brother. They fell madly in love, but her family didn't want to hear anything about her seeing a low-born man who would never be wealthy or hold any position of influence in his life. Jose Eduardo wouldn't take "no" for an answer and neither did Maria. This prohibition on seeing each other had only made them more intent on being together. So, they planned to meet each other in Matamoros, far away from her family's influence. Things didn't work out as they had expected and Maria ended up leaving with that rich gringo rancher she had met."

Padre Garcia shook his head. It seems Maria had lied to him about some things, particularly about the threats that she had claimed her father had made to the gringo. It made him wonder about what else she might have lied about. He was prevented from pondering this question as Magdalena continued her tale.

"We heard nothing more of her until the day she appeared in Altar and she and I became very good friends. She had the most adorable little boy with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, but he was a hindrance for her more than anything else. She loved him, of course, but his presence kept her from finding a rich man who could take care of her. Who would have wanted another man's son... and a mestizo at that?

"By then, Jose Eduardo had joined the rurales forces and was earning promotion after promotion... and at the same time, he was getting more ruthless and cold-hearted. He was no longer the loving and caring brother I had known all my life. Although married, he resumed his affair with Maria, despite her "bastardo", as he called Juanito. It was on and off because Maria never stayed long in any place. Altar was, however, THE place where she always returned. And the last time she did, well... you know what happened."

"Yes. I remember that tragedy. I was the one who buried Maria and Carlos – the man who killed her – and took care of the little boy after the Hernandez' found him in the desert and took him to the orphanage."

He remembered, too, that Juanito had never really been accepted by the other children, the good sisters – and sad to say – even most of the brothers. All had mistreated the little blue-eyed child, calling him a demon-child, all but him. Eventually, Juanito had fled in the night, never to be seen again. In fact, Padre Garcia had presumed the boy was dead... until now, when he suddenly realized what Magdalena meant.

"Juanito is... Johnny Madrid, the pistolero?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Yes. He ended up turning to the gun to survive."

"How long have you known this, Magdalena?"

"Only since yesterday. Like many others, I had always assumed Juanito had died after he had left Altar, but I was wrong. From what I was able to understand, it seems my brother has always known that Juanito and Johnny Madrid were the same person. I remember one instance when he told me he'd had problems with a certain Johnny Madrid, pistolero on the rise, and meant to find him and make sure he wouldn't interfere in his affairs anymore.

"At the time, I thought he meant the rurales' affairs. He did, after all, capture Madrid and put an end to the revolution. But he told me that Madrid was freed at the last minute and disappeared. As punishment, my brother was demoted to the post of simple lieutenant and, since then, all the promotions he could have had have been denied to him.

"Then, not long ago, Madrid was captured again by Jose Eduardo's men. He is being held in a dark cell in the basement of my brother's office, waiting for his execution. And that day is coming fast. You remember that when my husband's broken body was found at the foot of a precipice, it was rumored that it was the infamous pistolero who had killed him."

"I remember. Your brother publicly vowed to get the killer and had named Johnny Madrid as the culprit."

"Well, two days ago, my brother took me down to the cells to let me see Pedro's murderer."

"What happened?"

Magdalena looked at the man who was accused of killing her husband years ago. A man she hated fiercely, a man she had killed countless times with her bare hands in her wildest dreams of vengeance. What she saw was a man who smelled quite bad, was unshaven and had long, dirty dark hair falling in his face – a man who didn't look dangerous at all. Something was familiar about him, though, but she couldn't figure out what it was, until she saw his eyes... those same startling blue eyes she had last seen years ago, when the man in front of her had been but a cute little boy.

"Lena?" he had said, his voice raspy. "Is that you, Lena?"

To say she had been shocked was an understatement. She had almost fainted and had to grab the bars of the cell for fear of falling to the ground. Apart from her husband and Maria, only Juanito had ever called her "Lena".

"Juanito? You... you are Johnny Madrid? Pedro's murderer!" she had managed to utter, shocked.

"No, I didn't murder him. It was an accident. You've got to believe me, Lena. I would never have killed him, no matter what. You know that. You know how much Pedro – Santiago – meant to me."

And she had indeed remembered how Juanito had worshipped Pedro Santiago, the man who had briefly been his stepfather, before Maria had a change of heart and left him. Shortly after that, she herself had fallen in love with Santiago – as he was more often called – and the two had married.

She had always known about her brother's other activities, knew he was corrupt – else, how could he have accumulated as much money as he had with only his regular pay as a rurales officer? She knew, too, that Santiago worked occasionally for Jose Eduardo. But, following their marriage, her husband had become her brother's right arm. She recalled the day when Santiago had returned home with the news.

"We fought, Lena, we fought hard, recklessly even", Johnny said, interrupting the flow of her thoughts. "I butted him in the stomach but we were too close to the ravine. He lost his footing and fell backward. I tried... I tried to grab his hand, Lena, I tried... but I was too late. So, yes, it is my fault he died but I never intended to kill him. Dios, I would even have given my life for him."

And Magdalena had believed him, without a doubt. All of a sudden, the hatred that had kept her going on with her life all those years left... and in its place, a deep feeling of disgust toward her own brother surfaced. She had always feared his illegal activities would lead her husband to an early grave. And it had proven true. The real person who was to blame for Santiago's premature death was her very own brother, Jose Eduardo Lopez. Still shocked, she had left the cell in tears, and had gone back upstairs, followed closely by her brother.

"And why are you telling me all of this now?"

"Because something needs to be done, Padre. We can't let my brother kill Juanito. We can't. Santiago wouldn't have wanted that. He loved the boy. If Juanito hadn't disappeared after Maria's death, we would even have adopted him, mixed-blood or not. We both loved him... and his mother. We would never have left him to fend for himself alone."

"But, there's nothing I can do. I'm only a poor padre in a small mission and I have no power to stop your brother."

"But, you know people who can help, who are powerful enough."

Padre Garcia shook his head again. What Magdalena was asking was near to impossible. Although what she was saying was true, it was also true that the vice-governor, his own brother, would be hard to reach. Time was against them as his brother was in Arizpe, and he failed to see how he could send a message there quickly enough to save Madrid. Besides, he had no idea how his brother would react to his request.

Like so many others, Padre Garcia had heard that the young pistolero had been executed by the rurales, under the command of Jose Eduardo Lopez. The people had mourned Madrid for many had considered him a hero. Then it was rumored that Madrid had been saved by an angel at the very last minute and had disappeared for a while. When he finally reappeared, the word was that the young man had turned bad. It was a known fact that he didn't hesitate to commit cold-blooded murder, killing innocent people, exercising violence against women and children.

But, Padre Garcia had always doubted that someone who had put his life on the line during the revolution, knowing that it had little chance of success and could end in his death, could suddenly turn his back on the very same people he'd helped in the past. And, although he wasn't fond of people who lived by the gun and generally put them all in the same basket, he couldn't see Madrid siding with bandidos and ruthless bullies. It didn't sound right... neither to him nor to the majority of the people who still revered the young man in private.

The peons weren't stupid and knew perfectly well nothing good would come of it if they openly defied Lopez, his men, or the powerful hacendados who were still ruling the country. So, whenever Lopez said 'Madrid did this' or 'Madrid did that', everyone acquiesced – him included – and nobody dared contradict the former captain. They had learned their lesson well and, so far, since Madrid's failed attempt to free them, those foolish enough to try rebelling had either been executed, murdered, or sent to the mines with no hope of being let free anytime soon.

"I'll try," he heard himself say. "I'll try, but I can't promise it will work."

"That's all I can ask of you, Padre, to try. Thank you."

_(Nine days ago...)_

Lopez was gritting his teeth. His dear sister, Magdalena, had flatly refused to have anything to do with his plans for executing Madrid and the part he wanted her to play.

How could he have failed to notice, years ago, how close she and Maria had grown? Of course, he'd always been aware that his former lover and Santiago had had an affair. It had bothered him at first, but Santiago had been a free man at the time. If he had already been engaged to his sister, he would have been a dead man. Nobody played his sister for a fool. Besides, Lopez had known that in short time Maria would tire of him. His Maria wasn't the type of woman to content herself with a man like Santiago. A man who, like himself years ago, neither held a high position nor had the wealth to satisfy her lust for beautiful things and the high life. It was well-known, at least in Álamos, their hometown, that her father intended to send her to Spain and marry her off to an aristocrat. The fortune he had made from his silver mines would buy for his daughter a Spanish title.

He cursed aloud and slapped his hand on his desk, sending a stack of paper onto the floor. It would have been different if Fate hadn't separated him from Maria, and if he had been able to meet her in Matamoros. He had been so disappointed when he had finally gotten there months later and found out, through one of Maria's friends, that she had had an affair with a gringo and had left with him, after she had gotten herself with child. Lopez had even managed to find out the name of the man... a certain Murdoch Lancer, a rich rancher from California.

Later on, he had met an aunt of Maria near their hometown, and had learned the gringo rancher had married Maria and that she had given him a son. That had been even harder to take. Particularly as his wife had only been able to produce girls or stillborn sons. All his life, he had envied the gringo who had stolen the heart of his beloved Maria. And then, when Maria had returned, his envy had turned into a fierce hatred for the man who had hurt the woman he had never stopped loving. He turned his hatred against the little blue-eyed boy, whose only "crime" was being the rancher's son. A boy who, on top of everything, bore such a resemblance to his beloved Maria that just looking at him hurt. Mierda! The boy could have been his, but he wasn't, and he reminded him too much of Maria's betrayal!

And now, Magdalena's refusal to play a part in his vengeance against the damned mestizo – the man who had ruthlessly murdered her husband – was too much. He realized he'd have to keep an eye on his sister. It might be suspicious on his part, but he wouldn't put it past her to try to help the accursed mestizo. Particularly after the way she had looked at him earlier, and how she had slapped his face before she had hurried outside, slamming the door of his office and leaving him alone with his fury. She was lucky she was his sister and that he loved her. Anyone else who'd dared do what she had would have been executed.

_(Now...)_

_Johnny didn't have long to wait. Less than an hour after the guards and the servant left him alone in his cell, the door opened again. This time, he barely glanced at the two guards who came in._

"_Move to the back, Mestizo," the first one ordered._

_He wasn't inclined to obey but knew it would only lead to a beating should he argue. So, he got up and went to the far end of the cell._

_The second guard approached and pushed him roughly against the wall while the first one grabbed his arms and pulled them above his head. It was only then that Johnny remembered the manacles and the chains fixed to the wall. He tried to disengage himself but too late, his wrists were now secured above his head and his ankles were restrained as well. He snickered. So much for obeying! He closed his eyes and waited, mentally preparing himself for the punches he was sure would come his way._

_(Eight days ago...)_

Again, Jeremy had only slept a few hours and had hit the road before dawn. A couple of hours after sunup, he wasn't sure whether or not he was heading in the right direction. He had the distinct feeling he had somehow taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

He continued on the same road for a little while, until he met a group of peasants, coming from the village he spotted in the distance. Their wagon was filled with vegetables and they were probably heading over to the market, in Sasabe – which meant that he was definitely on the wrong road.

"Hola," he said, approaching them. "Am I heading in the right direction for Sasabe?" he asked, indicating their village.

"No, Señor," the youngest of the party said. "You need to backtrack to where the main road splits and take the left path."

"Gracias. Can I trouble you some more?"

"Si, Señor. What can we do for you?"

"Have you seen a young man riding a dark horse and heading east recently?"

"Si, Señor. A young man on a dark horse stopped to help me repair the wheel of my wagon, yesterday, at the split. He then took the left road, the one you need to take to go to Sasabe."

"Muchas gracias," Jeremy said, as he turned his horse and headed back the way he came.

Once on the right road, he made it to Sasabe shortly before noon. By then, his stomach growled so fiercely that he stopped in one of the cantinas. As he stepped inside and ordered, he wondered if Johnny would have done the same, but somehow doubted it. His friend had, most probably, just ridden through without stopping, particularly if the town was as busy as it seemed to be today. There was an unusual amount of rurales and what he figured to be mercenaries hanging around and all looked as if they were waiting for something... or someone. The bad feeling in his gut returned abruptly.

Jeremy would have liked to have asked a few people about a lone horseman. It was one thing to ask peasants encountered on the road, but right here, it was rather risky. He decided to leave immediately once he finished eating. No sense bringing undue attention to himself.

He had no choice but to pass right in front of some of the mercenaries, though. He tried to be unobtrusive but knew they had noticed him. How could they not? It wasn't often that gringos traveled south of the border. He just hoped they wouldn't come after him – a confrontation was the last thing he needed.

He was well away from Sasabe when he saw a few men harassing an old peasant and a young woman. By the time he got near them, two of them were holding the old man and the rest were making bets about who would get the girl first. He cursed aloud. He knew he couldn't afford to get involved, but it was against his nature to let them have their way with the poor girl.

_(Eight days ago...)_

Val was pleased. They had covered a lot of ground without meeting any trouble. The more he hung out with Scott, the more he understood Johnny's love and esteem for the young man.

When Val had first met Scott, he hadn't been overly impressed. For him, the young Bostonian was only another Easterner who wanted to play at being a cowboy and would soon tire of the game and return home, back East. But as the weeks, the months and the years went by, he acquired a lot of respect for the man. Now he was glad Scott was with him for this rescue mission they had undertaken.

In a few more miles, they'd reach Sasabe and would be able to stop for a good meal before continuing over to Sonoyta. Val was anticipating meeting Lucinda. It should be interesting to see her reaction to Johnny's gringo brother. And, they needed to reunite with Jeremy fast because the more time they took to find Johnny, the less they'd have a chance to find him alive.

_(Nine days ago...)_

Murdoch stepped down from the stage with a grunt. His back would no doubt make him regret this trip but he needed to be closer to the action. He stretched his long legs and then arched his back to work the knots free. The pain he felt almost made him double over. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath and only then did he retrieve his saddlebags.

On his way to the hotel, he stopped to telegraph Cipriano and Teresa, to let them know he had arrived safely and would wait in Tucson, should they need to reach him.

He finally got to the small hotel that served as their "base of operation", as his older son would say. The thought made him smile but, soon, worries about his youngest resurfaced and the smile vanished.

Once in his room, Murdoch couldn't help feeling disappointed. He had hoped against all reason that Jeremy, Scott and Val would still be there. It was foolish because if that was the case, it could mean that Johnny was lost to them or that they'd have even less time to find him. Murdoch was sure that trouble – BIG trouble – had somehow found his son and that he was in dire need of being rescued. He shuddered. What if he was again a prisoner of the rurales? Could they still want to execute him for the part he'd played in the revolution?

Damn! He should have taken greater measures to avoid that risk. He should have written to some of his Mexican friends, asking them to intervene on his behalf with the governor and ask an official pardon for his son. Or better yet, he should have gone himself to Mexico, as soon as he had learned about his son's part in the revolution. He should have... but now, it might be too late.

TBC


	38. Chapter 38

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 37

_(Eight days ago...)_

Padre Garcia was at a loss. He had met Maria over 12 years ago when he was working at the mission and the orphanage in Altar. She had certainly been a sinner and bad example for the other young women she had befriended, but he had never been disposed to throw the first stone. He was aware of the hard life she'd led, judging from what she had divulged to him.

When Maria had told him about the father of her startlingly blue-eyed son, he had been appalled at the rancher's behavior to her, how he had despoiled her and brought shame to her family. True, the gringo had ended up doing the right thing by marrying her, but only after being threatened by Maria's father. Then, he had taken her to his grand estancia in the San Joaquin Valley, north of the border, well away from her family and her friends. Two years after she had given birth to their son, the rancher had realized the boy still looked more Mexican than American – and always would – despite his blue eyes. He had thrown his wife out, along with her "mistake", as Maria had said he called their son. He even had the nerve to tell her never to return. It was no wonder that the young woman had turned bad, unable to return to her family without shaming them further and with her mixed-blood child, she had no means of support other than turning to sin.

So, when the Señora Santiago spoke of Maria's son, he knew who she was talking about. But what he failed to understand was what she meant when she said "Nothing... and everything."

He sat at the table, sipping his tepid lemonade, waiting for Magdalena to explain. When nothing further came, he realized he'd have to push her a bit.

"Magdalena, what do your brother, Johnny Madrid, and Maria's boy have in common?"

"Lots of things. When Maria was around sixteen years old, she met my brother. They fell madly in love, but her family didn't want to hear anything about her seeing a low-born man who would never be wealthy or hold any position of influence in his life. Jose Eduardo wouldn't take "no" for an answer and neither did Maria. This prohibition on seeing each other had only made them more intent on being together. So, they planned to meet each other in Matamoros, far away from her family's influence. Things didn't work out as they had expected and Maria ended up leaving with that rich gringo rancher she had met."

Padre Garcia shook his head. It seems Maria had lied to him about some things, particularly about the threats that she had claimed her father had made to the gringo. It made him wonder about what else she might have lied about. He was prevented from pondering this question as Magdalena continued her tale.

"We heard nothing more of her until the day she appeared in Altar and she and I became very good friends. She had the most adorable little boy with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, but he was a hindrance for her more than anything else. She loved him, of course, but his presence kept her from finding a rich man who could take care of her. Who would have wanted another man's son... and a mestizo at that?

"By then, Jose Eduardo had joined the rurales forces and was earning promotion after promotion... and at the same time, he was getting more ruthless and cold-hearted. He was no longer the loving and caring brother I had known all my life. Although married, he resumed his affair with Maria, despite her "bastardo", as he called Juanito. It was on and off because Maria never stayed long in any place. Altar was, however, THE place where she always returned. And the last time she did, well... you know what happened."

"Yes. I remember that tragedy. I was the one who buried Maria and Carlos – the man who killed her – and took care of the little boy after the Hernandez' found him in the desert and took him to the orphanage."

He remembered, too, that Juanito had never really been accepted by the other children, the good sisters – and sad to say – even most of the brothers. All had mistreated the little blue-eyed child, calling him a demon-child, all but him. Eventually, Juanito had fled in the night, never to be seen again. In fact, Padre Garcia had presumed the boy was dead... until now, when he suddenly realized what Magdalena meant.

"Juanito is... Johnny Madrid, the pistolero?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Yes. He ended up turning to the gun to survive."

"How long have you known this, Magdalena?"

"Only since yesterday. Like many others, I had always assumed Juanito had died after he had left Altar, but I was wrong. From what I was able to understand, it seems my brother has always known that Juanito and Johnny Madrid were the same person. I remember one instance when he told me he'd had problems with a certain Johnny Madrid, pistolero on the rise, and meant to find him and make sure he wouldn't interfere in his affairs anymore.

"At the time, I thought he meant the rurales' affairs. He did, after all, capture Madrid and put an end to the revolution. But he told me that Madrid was freed at the last minute and disappeared. As punishment, my brother was demoted to the post of simple lieutenant and, since then, all the promotions he could have had have been denied to him.

"Then, not long ago, Madrid was captured again by Jose Eduardo's men. He is being held in a dark cell in the basement of my brother's office, waiting for his execution. And that day is coming fast. You remember that when my husband's broken body was found at the foot of a precipice, it was rumored that it was the infamous pistolero who had killed him."

"I remember. Your brother publicly vowed to get the killer and had named Johnny Madrid as the culprit."

"Well, two days ago, my brother took me down to the cells to let me see Pedro's murderer."

"What happened?"

Magdalena looked at the man who was accused of killing her husband years ago. A man she hated fiercely, a man she had killed countless times with her bare hands in her wildest dreams of vengeance. What she saw was a man who smelled quite bad, was unshaven and had long, dirty dark hair falling in his face – a man who didn't look dangerous at all. Something was familiar about him, though, but she couldn't figure out what it was, until she saw his eyes... those same startling blue eyes she had last seen years ago, when the man in front of her had been but a cute little boy.

"Lena?" he had said, his voice raspy. "Is that you, Lena?"

To say she had been shocked was an understatement. She had almost fainted and had to grab the bars of the cell for fear of falling to the ground. Apart from her husband and Maria, only Juanito had ever called her "Lena".

"Juanito? You... you are Johnny Madrid? Pedro's murderer!" she had managed to utter, shocked.

"No, I didn't murder him. It was an accident. You've got to believe me, Lena. I would never have killed him, no matter what. You know that. You know how much Pedro – Santiago – meant to me."

And she had indeed remembered how Juanito had worshipped Pedro Santiago, the man who had briefly been his stepfather, before Maria had a change of heart and left him. Shortly after that, she herself had fallen in love with Santiago – as he was more often called – and the two had married.

She had always known about her brother's other activities, knew he was corrupt – else, how could he have accumulated as much money as he had with only his regular pay as a rurales officer? She knew, too, that Santiago worked occasionally for Jose Eduardo. But, following their marriage, her husband had become her brother's right arm. She recalled the day when Santiago had returned home with the news.

"We fought, Lena, we fought hard, recklessly even", Johnny said, interrupting the flow of her thoughts. "I butted him in the stomach but we were too close to the ravine. He lost his footing and fell backward. I tried... I tried to grab his hand, Lena, I tried... but I was too late. So, yes, it is my fault he died but I never intended to kill him. Dios, I would even have given my life for him."

And Magdalena had believed him, without a doubt. All of a sudden, the hatred that had kept her going on with her life all those years left... and in its place, a deep feeling of disgust toward her own brother surfaced. She had always feared his illegal activities would lead her husband to an early grave. And it had proven true. The real person who was to blame for Santiago's premature death was her very own brother, Jose Eduardo Lopez. Still shocked, she had left the cell in tears, and had gone back upstairs, followed closely by her brother.

"And why are you telling me all of this now?"

"Because something needs to be done, Padre. We can't let my brother kill Juanito. We can't. Santiago wouldn't have wanted that. He loved the boy. If Juanito hadn't disappeared after Maria's death, we would even have adopted him, mixed-blood or not. We both loved him... and his mother. We would never have left him to fend for himself alone."

"But, there's nothing I can do. I'm only a poor padre in a small mission and I have no power to stop your brother."

"But, you know people who can help, who are powerful enough."

Padre Garcia shook his head again. What Magdalena was asking was near to impossible. Although what she was saying was true, it was also true that the vice-governor, his own brother, would be hard to reach. Time was against them as his brother was in Arizpe, and he failed to see how he could send a message there quickly enough to save Madrid. Besides, he had no idea how his brother would react to his request.

Like so many others, Padre Garcia had heard that the young pistolero had been executed by the rurales, under the command of Jose Eduardo Lopez. The people had mourned Madrid for many had considered him a hero. Then it was rumored that Madrid had been saved by an angel at the very last minute and had disappeared for a while. When he finally reappeared, the word was that the young man had turned bad. It was a known fact that he didn't hesitate to commit cold-blooded murder, killing innocent people, exercising violence against women and children.

But, Padre Garcia had always doubted that someone who had put his life on the line during the revolution, knowing that it had little chance of success and could end in his death, could suddenly turn his back on the very same people he'd helped in the past. And, although he wasn't fond of people who lived by the gun and generally put them all in the same basket, he couldn't see Madrid siding with bandidos and ruthless bullies. It didn't sound right... neither to him nor to the majority of the people who still revered the young man in private.

The peons weren't stupid and knew perfectly well nothing good would come of it if they openly defied Lopez, his men, or the powerful hacendados who were still ruling the country. So, whenever Lopez said 'Madrid did this' or 'Madrid did that', everyone acquiesced – him included – and nobody dared contradict the former captain. They had learned their lesson well and, so far, since Madrid's failed attempt to free them, those foolish enough to try rebelling had either been executed, murdered, or sent to the mines with no hope of being let free anytime soon.

"I'll try," he heard himself say. "I'll try, but I can't promise it will work."

"That's all I can ask of you, Padre, to try. Thank you."

_(Nine days ago...)_

Lopez was gritting his teeth. His dear sister, Magdalena, had flatly refused to have anything to do with his plans for executing Madrid and the part he wanted her to play.

How could he have failed to notice, years ago, how close she and Maria had grown? Of course, he'd always been aware that his former lover and Santiago had had an affair. It had bothered him at first, but Santiago had been a free man at the time. If he had already been engaged to his sister, he would have been a dead man. Nobody played his sister for a fool. Besides, Lopez had known that in short time Maria would tire of him. His Maria wasn't the type of woman to content herself with a man like Santiago. A man who, like himself years ago, neither held a high position nor had the wealth to satisfy her lust for beautiful things and the high life. It was well-known, at least in Álamos, their hometown, that her father intended to send her to Spain and marry her off to an aristocrat. The fortune he had made from his silver mines would buy for his daughter a Spanish title.

He cursed aloud and slapped his hand on his desk, sending a stack of paper onto the floor. It would have been different if Fate hadn't separated him from Maria, and if he had been able to meet her in Matamoros. He had been so disappointed when he had finally gotten there months later and found out, through one of Maria's friends, that she had had an affair with a gringo and had left with him, after she had gotten herself with child. Lopez had even managed to find out the name of the man... a certain Murdoch Lancer, a rich rancher from California.

Later on, he had met an aunt of Maria near their hometown, and had learned the gringo rancher had married Maria and that she had given him a son. That had been even harder to take. Particularly as his wife had only been able to produce girls or stillborn sons. All his life, he had envied the gringo who had stolen the heart of his beloved Maria. And then, when Maria had returned, his envy had turned into a fierce hatred for the man who had hurt the woman he had never stopped loving. He turned his hatred against the little blue-eyed boy, whose only "crime" was being the rancher's son. A boy who, on top of everything, bore such a resemblance to his beloved Maria that just looking at him hurt. Mierda! The boy could have been his, but he wasn't, and he reminded him too much of Maria's betrayal!

And now, Magdalena's refusal to play a part in his vengeance against the damned mestizo – the man who had ruthlessly murdered her husband – was too much. He realized he'd have to keep an eye on his sister. It might be suspicious on his part, but he wouldn't put it past her to try to help the accursed mestizo. Particularly after the way she had looked at him earlier, and how she had slapped his face before she had hurried outside, slamming the door of his office and leaving him alone with his fury. She was lucky she was his sister and that he loved her. Anyone else who'd dared do what she had would have been executed.

_(Now...)_

_Johnny didn't have long to wait. Less than an hour after the guards and the servant left him alone in his cell, the door opened again. This time, he barely glanced at the two guards who came in._

"_Move to the back, Mestizo," the first one ordered._

_He wasn't inclined to obey but knew it would only lead to a beating should he argue. So, he got up and went to the far end of the cell._

_The second guard approached and pushed him roughly against the wall while the first one grabbed his arms and pulled them above his head. It was only then that Johnny remembered the manacles and the chains fixed to the wall. He tried to disengage himself but too late, his wrists were now secured above his head and his ankles were restrained as well. He snickered. So much for obeying! He closed his eyes and waited, mentally preparing himself for the punches he was sure would come his way._

_(Eight days ago...)_

Again, Jeremy had only slept a few hours and had hit the road before dawn. A couple of hours after sunup, he wasn't sure whether or not he was heading in the right direction. He had the distinct feeling he had somehow taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

He continued on the same road for a little while, until he met a group of peasants, coming from the village he spotted in the distance. Their wagon was filled with vegetables and they were probably heading over to the market, in Sasabe – which meant that he was definitely on the wrong road.

"Hola," he said, approaching them. "Am I heading in the right direction for Sasabe?" he asked, indicating their village.

"No, Señor," the youngest of the party said. "You need to backtrack to where the main road splits and take the left path."

"Gracias. Can I trouble you some more?"

"Si, Señor. What can we do for you?"

"Have you seen a young man riding a dark horse and heading east recently?"

"Si, Señor. A young man on a dark horse stopped to help me repair the wheel of my wagon, yesterday, at the split. He then took the left road, the one you need to take to go to Sasabe."

"Muchas gracias," Jeremy said, as he turned his horse and headed back the way he came.

Once on the right road, he made it to Sasabe shortly before noon. By then, his stomach growled so fiercely that he stopped in one of the cantinas. As he stepped inside and ordered, he wondered if Johnny would have done the same, but somehow doubted it. His friend had, most probably, just ridden through without stopping, particularly if the town was as busy as it seemed to be today. There was an unusual amount of rurales and what he figured to be mercenaries hanging around and all looked as if they were waiting for something... or someone. The bad feeling in his gut returned abruptly.

Jeremy would have liked to have asked a few people about a lone horseman. It was one thing to ask peasants encountered on the road, but right here, it was rather risky. He decided to leave immediately once he finished eating. No sense bringing undue attention to himself.

He had no choice but to pass right in front of some of the mercenaries, though. He tried to be unobtrusive but knew they had noticed him. How could they not? It wasn't often that gringos traveled south of the border. He just hoped they wouldn't come after him – a confrontation was the last thing he needed.

He was well away from Sasabe when he saw a few men harassing an old peasant and a young woman. By the time he got near them, two of them were holding the old man and the rest were making bets about who would get the girl first. He cursed aloud. He knew he couldn't afford to get involved, but it was against his nature to let them have their way with the poor girl.

_(Eight days ago...)_

Val was pleased. They had covered a lot of ground without meeting any trouble. The more he hung out with Scott, the more he understood Johnny's love and esteem for the young man.

When Val had first met Scott, he hadn't been overly impressed. For him, the young Bostonian was only another Easterner who wanted to play at being a cowboy and would soon tire of the game and return home, back East. But as the weeks, the months and the years went by, he acquired a lot of respect for the man. Now he was glad Scott was with him for this rescue mission they had undertaken.

In a few more miles, they'd reach Sasabe and would be able to stop for a good meal before continuing over to Sonoyta. Val was anticipating meeting Lucinda. It should be interesting to see her reaction to Johnny's gringo brother. And, they needed to reunite with Jeremy fast because the more time they took to find Johnny, the less they'd have a chance to find him alive.

_(Nine days ago...)_

Murdoch stepped down from the stage with a grunt. His back would no doubt make him regret this trip but he needed to be closer to the action. He stretched his long legs and then arched his back to work the knots free. The pain he felt almost made him double over. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath and only then did he retrieve his saddlebags.

On his way to the hotel, he stopped to telegraph Cipriano and Teresa, to let them know he had arrived safely and would wait in Tucson, should they need to reach him.

He finally got to the small hotel that served as their "base of operation", as his older son would say. The thought made him smile but, soon, worries about his youngest resurfaced and the smile vanished.

Once in his room, Murdoch couldn't help feeling disappointed. He had hoped against all reason that Jeremy, Scott and Val would still be there. It was foolish because if that was the case, it could mean that Johnny was lost to them or that they'd have even less time to find him. Murdoch was sure that trouble – BIG trouble – had somehow found his son and that he was in dire need of being rescued. He shuddered. What if he was again a prisoner of the rurales? Could they still want to execute him for the part he'd played in the revolution?

Damn! He should have taken greater measures to avoid that risk. He should have written to some of his Mexican friends, asking them to intervene on his behalf with the governor and ask an official pardon for his son. Or better yet, he should have gone himself to Mexico, as soon as he had learned about his son's part in the revolution. He should have... but now, it might be too late.

TBC


	39. Chapter 39

A PAST FOREVER PRESENT

CHAPTER 39

_(Seven days ago...)_

Jeremy lay on his back, comfortably nestled on a soft mattress. He was most assuredly at home, in his bed... at least, it felt like it. And judging from how much his head hurt and how dizzy he felt, he was nursing a hangover. Through the fog that seemed to have taken permanent residence in his head, he could hear a voice. It was faint at first and then it became more insistent... Val's voice.

"Wake up, Jeremy. Come on, wake up!"

What was Val doing here? He didn't even remember spending time with his friend the prior evening. Damn! They must have drunk a lot for him not to recall anything. He sighed as he shook his head to clear the fog but the movement sent an excruciating pain traveling into his skull. He stopped, waiting for the pain to subside. Then, another voice cut through the fog, deeper this time, and with a slight discernible Eastern accent – Scott Lancer's. What the heck was Lancer doing at his place, too? He tried to open his eyes but the effort was too great. Instead, he started to move the fingers of his right hand and then, his left.

"That's it, Jeremy. Take it slow, no hurry," Lancer's voice said.

'No hurry?' he thought, as his mind conjured up an image of Johnny facing a firing squad. "Damn! Johnny! Gotta help him," he said aloud, his eyes jerking open with memory of what had happened returning all at once. He tried to sit up but a firm hand pushed him back onto the mattress.

"Easy, Jeremy. Don't get up just yet. Stay put!"

Scott's voice again. Jeremy focused on Johnny's half-brother as he fought to keep his eyes opened. Never had two brothers been more different than those two. To see them side by side will certainly be interesting and that thought made him smile. But for that to happen, they needed to find Johnny... and fast.

"I'm okay... I think," he heard himself say as another pair of worried eyes replaced Scott's face – Val's – and this made him chuckle. "Mother Hen," he whispered.

Val had the good grace to blush and mumbled, "'Bout time you graced us with your presence, Señor Gringo."

"Worried 'bout me, huh?"

"Nah. Just wonderin' how long you were gonna sleep."

"How long?" Jeremy asked. Passing a hand over his face, he felt what seemed to be scratches on his left cheek and he frowned. He must have gotten those when he had fallen face first in the dirt.

"About three hours or so. A bullet creased the side of your head and knocked you out. Bled a lot."

"Yeah, it usually does. Got one of those headaches, too," Jeremy said as both his hands felt for the bandage surrounding his head. He tried to sit up, but again Scott stopped him. The young man grabbed a couple of pillows and placed them behind Jeremy's back before helping him sit and settle comfortably against them.

Jeremy turned his head a little too quickly and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning around. A few minutes went by before he dared open them again. By then, he found that the world had returned to normal, or almost, as it was still dancing a bit before his eyes.

"Take it slow. No need to rush," Val said.

"No need to rush? Are you kidding? We need to get going. Find Johnny."

"We know where he is," Val said with a small laugh. "You see, while you had your beauty sleep, we had a nice chat with those hired hands. Wasn't hard seein' there was only one still standin' – leastways, until I made him see stars in broad daylight,"Val added, stifling a chuckle.

"Oh yes, them! What happened after I passed out?" asked Jeremy, while he massaged his temples with fingers that still shook a bit.

"Three are dead. The other three have been taken to a nearby mission by a few of the villagers – wounded, bound, gagged and blindfolded. They were unconscious but we instructed the villagers not to say a word while they were with them, to avoid being recognized," answered Scott.

"We also told 'em to find a way to drop them without bein' seen," Val added.

Jeremy nodded. That's what he would have done, too. "And what about the old man and the girl?"

"They're fine," Val answered. "Fact is we're in their home, in the village."

"But it's..."

Val held his hand up, effectively stopping Jeremy from continuing. "... risky. We know, we know, but they insisted. Said the least they could do for the gringos who helped them was to offer their help in turn. They're aware of the risk they're takin'. But don't worry, even if the hired hands come this way, they won't know we've been here."

"You think? What if someone speaks?"

"They won't. The old man, Pablo, told me an interesting story" Val said.

Seeing that he had Jeremy's and Scott's full attention, Val continued. "His story confirmed what we'd heard 'bout Johnny's whereabouts. Pablo was in Sasabe a few days ago. Seems he's had problems with that bunch before, for showin' too much interest in his granddaughter. Johnny happened to be passing through and, of course, stuck his nose in."

"How can Pablo know for sure it was Johnny?" Scott asked.

"Johnny's beard wasn't enough to fool Pablo. Thing is, a bully named Fernando, who leads these hands, also recognized our boy. There was a fight, but Johnny didn't stand a chance against those odds. Pablo overheard Fernando tellin' his men to take Johnny to Nogales to collect the reward from El Teniente Lopez."

Scott blanched. "Lopez? Wouldn't that be the same Lopez who tried to execute Johnny for his part in the revolution?

"Yep. The former El Capitán who's since been demoted to lieutenant. No doubt, he blames Johnny – and Murdoch – for that interferrin' Pinkerton man who brought him down."

Val's tone held a note of worry that made Scott shiver. "Then, Johnny really is in serious trouble; that man won't hesitate to kill him."

"I'd say so," Val agreed before turning to Jeremy. "As much as I hate to ask, do you think you're okay to continue? We still have a few hours in front of us and we could cover some more ground 'till sundown."

"I think I can make it. The world's still spinning a bit, but not enough to stop me from riding. And if it gets to be too rough, you can always go ahead and I'll catch you later, now that we kind of 'know' where we're going."

"Then, let's go. The faster we can get to Johnny, the better it will be," Val said. "I'm afraid time's running short."

_(Seven days ago...)_

Murdoch had followed his instinct and had ridden over to the American sector of Nogalès. It had taken him a day and a half with frequent stops to rest his back. He had even slept _à la belle étoile_ for a few hours, something he hadn't done in a long while. That thought made him smile as he recalled that lovely bit of French, learned years ago from an equally lovely Creole during a trip he'd made to New Orleans. Of course, his back was sore but not as much as he'd thought it would be. No doubt his sons would be crossed with him if they knew about this latest stunt. Both were overprotective of their Ol' Man, at times, and were convinced he was too old for some things. If only they knew!

To pass the time, he was enjoying a cool beer in one of the cantinas. He had no real way of contacting Scott's party but figured they would have to come his way when they would return with Johnny. It was the closest to the Mexican sector of Nogalès and, he didn't exactly know why, but he was sure Johnny was there or nearby. He had the feeling that if the rurales' captain had his son, it would only be logical to detain him in Nogalès. It was near the village where the revolution had taken place and where Johnny had come very close to losing his life. If he'd been in the captain's shoes, that's what he would have done.

While waiting would be excruciatingly hard, he felt it would be better for him to stay on this side of the border. If the others had to hurry back from Mexico, possibly with a wounded Johnny, he might be more a hindrance to them than anything else. Still, he _would _be present for his son's return.

_(Six days ago...)_

Lopez was furious. Once again, Magdalena had refused to have anything to do with him. Dios, the woman was stubborn. How in Hell had Santiago ever been able to tame her was beyond his understanding. She was more hard-headed than a dozen mules.

He had spent the previous evening trying to convince her of the necessity to dispose of Madrid permanently, but to no avail. She had hurled things at him, yelled at him, spat at him. Mierda! She even had scratched his face with her nails. It had taken everything from him not to slap her. All she had kept saying was that she hated him and would do everything in her power to stop the execution.

Maldito! And to think he had been convinced she'd be happy to witness the demise of her husband's murderer! How wrong had he been! Now, he'd better make sure she would be in no position to do anything. Madrid's execution would be HIS moment of glory and no way would she – or anyone else for that matter – steal it from him. No way!

_(Now...)_

_He had been dozing off again and hadn't even heard the door open. Only when the guards had started to unlock the manacles restraining his wrists had he opened his eyes. For a moment, he had felt disoriented, not quite knowing where he was, but that feeling didn't last long as he remembered the last person who visited him – his "friend", Ortega._

_Ever since that moment, he'd been expecting Ortega to be thrown in his cell, just to prove him right. But, so far, it hadn't happened. Maybe he'd been wrong... maybe Lopez really did appreciate the young mestizo, as unlikely as it sounded, knowing the man's dislike for anyone with mixed blood._

"_What now?" he asked, trying not to show how much all this was really starting to affect him._

_The guards didn't answer but laughed when he couldn't stop a hiss as the blood started to circulate again in his arms and hands. As soon as they finished untying him, they left him alone again._

_His legs barely able to support his weight, he stumbled over to his mattress and let himself fall on it. How long was Lopez planning to play with his nerves as he'd been doing? Although he had no intention of giving the man the satisfaction of hearing him beg for anything, he knew that the longer he was kept in the dark, so to speak, the harder it would be for him to stand his ground. He wondered if maybe El Capitán – no, El Teniente, he must remember... El Teniente – was spying on him. But then, to do so, there would need to be more light in the cell at all times and that wasn't the case. So obviously, he wasn't being spied upon. Whether knowing this should make him feel better or not, he didn't know. And, to tell the truth, he was past caring. _

_The door opened again and the usual elderly peon brought him his meal._

"_Gracias," Johnny murmured. _

_As was his habit, the old man didn't answer, but this time, he put one hand on Johnny's shoulder and squeezed it lightly, as if to reassure him. The gesture went to Johnny's heart. _

"_Don't worry, Abuelo. I'll be fine," he said, softly._

_The old man smiled and left the cell, as silently as he had come. Once again, Johnny was left alone with his thoughts. _

_Lopez was busy signing some letters his assistant had prepared when he heard a knock on the door._

"_Come in," he said as he pushed the letters to one side and looked up to see who his visitor was. He was a bit disappointed to see it wasn't his sister but Ortega who stepped in, hat in hand, eyes downcast, like a proper peon in front of his better. Dios! How he loved the effect he was having on the young man. Ever since he'd taken Ortega out of the stinking cell where the young man had been thrown after his capture, it was as if he – Lopez – had become Dios in the eyes of the young rebel. What a brilliant idea he'd had to turn him against Madrid, his childhood friend. It hadn't been easy, but with a lot of patience, he had finally succeeded._

"_I trust you have seen your friend," he said, smiling._

_Ortega's eyes clouded for a moment and Lopez experienced a moment of doubt. What if Madrid had managed to undermine the work he had painstakingly done with Ortega? Maybe it had been a bad idea to let the two young men together without supervision of any kind. Another mistake, no doubt, just like with Magdalena and Maria. He absolutely needed Ortega's loyalty now; he didn't need to end up with another supporter of Madrid. Ortega's face darkened and Lopez saw the barely controlled fury when the young man answered._

"_Si. We spoke and he knows I'm working for you."_

"_Good," Lopez said, careful to keep his tone neutral so as not to show how pleased he was with Ortega's answer. "I suppose he wasn't very happy, was he?" _

_Ortega's face relaxed and he let out a nervous laugh. "He wasn't. Said I shouldn't trust you and that you will hurt me."_

_Lopez smiled and if Ortega had really been paying any attention, he would have seen that the smile never reached the rurale's eyes. "Why would I do that? I couldn't have found a better man to replace Santiago at my side. No really, I would never do such a thing."_

_Ortega looked relieved and Lopez was thrilled. It was simply unbelievable how malleable the young man was. He could do with him everything he wanted and realized he need not fear Madrid would turn Ortega against him._

"_Do you need me for something else today?"_

"_As a matter of fact, yes I do. I want you to ride over to Esperanza and bring back the Señora Castillo. Make sure she understands I won't take "No" for an answer. Remind her, if need be, that I still hold her children and her brother and what will happen to them should she refuse to obey my command."_

"_Does this mean Madrid will be executed soon?"_

"_Soon, very soon indeed. Now go."_

_Ortega saluted, turned on his heels and made for the door. Lopez watched him go and stroked his moustache as the young man shut the door behind him, immensely pleased with himself. In his head, all he could hear was 'Soon. Soon. Soon.' Yes, soon, Madrid would be gone forever. Soon, Madrid would only be a bad memory. And soon, he would even forget Madrid ever existed. _

_(Six days ago...)_

This time again, Jose Eduardo had returned home for lunch. Magdalena knew he wanted to try to convince her again, but she refused to pretend everything was right between them. Thus, lunch had been a strained affair with no one enjoying their meal and her brother left as soon as he had finished eating, visibly furious.

Magdalena stood at the window and waited until he disappeared from her sight before going out to saddle her horse. She rode in the opposite direction of her brother's office, over to the mission, intent on talking again with Padre Garcia and see if he'd been able to send a messenger to his brother.

The evening before, her brother had been extremely angry with her. Their talk had turned into a shouting match with her even scratching his face with her nails. For a moment, she had even feared for her life. The look in Jose Eduardo's eyes had been as close to madness as she'd ever seen. He had controlled himself, though, and hadn't touched her. But, she feared the next time they would talk.

His hatred toward Juanito was utterly irrational. She knew, of course, that her brother had been deeply in love with Maria and had always thought he would care for his lover's son, even if the boy wasn't his. Juanito looked so much like his mother that it was impossible not to be attracted to him. He possessed his mother's beauty, her charm, her charisma. How anyone could hate such a boy was beyond her comprehension, even if this boy had become Johnny Madrid, the infamous cold-blooded pistolero in the eyes of some and a hero for others. What had he done for Lopez to hate him so much? It certainly wasn't only because of his chosen profession! There had to be another reason, but what?

She really needed to speak to Padre Garcia. After her latest altercation with her brother, she knew Juanito's days were really numbered. She also knew that should something happen to her friend's son, she would blame herself for having been unable to protect the young man.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she never noticed she was being discreetly followed by a man. When she finally made it to the mission, she saw immediately that something was wrong... very wrong. People were gathered at the church entrance and many of the women were crying.

TBC


End file.
